Be careful what you wish for
by Ocean of Ashes
Summary: Five years ago, I went to unforgivable lengths to not have a child with Mark Sloan. And now, suddenly... I have one." A tragedy brings Addison back to Seattle...
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Like a child with a new toy, I absolutely cannot wait any longer to play with this story, and to show it off to everyone. I've been bursting to post it for weeks now, and since You Can Run really is in the last two or three chapters now, I've cast willpower to the wind, and uploaded just this first chapter, something of a prologue, as a taster. Of course, it virtually goes without saying that I would absolutely love to hear what you think of it, and heartily welcome all speculation on where the story may head.

Explanatory Note: I feel it may be worth mentioning the proposed timescale of this story, although it's not really important. It's set, say, vaguely four years post season three and as I haven't seen seasons four or five other than the odd clip on YouTube, it is unlikely to allude much to events there. I'll try to keep it woolly for the canon purists (as a rule, I hate writing directly against canon myself), but don't expect romance between Alex and Izzie, or Mark and Lexie. Because it ain't gonna happen.

Disclaimer: All the characters in this story, with the exception of Sophia, belong to Shonda Rhimes and anyone else who has the pleasure of legal rights over them.

_Be careful what you wish for_

It was some inexplicable, obscure and _deeply _annoying twist of nature that the later you were running, the more things were likely to go wrong. Sod's Law, Murphy's Law, plain old bad luck, whatever the Hell you wanted to call it; it was after her with a vengeance this morning.

It started when she was rudely awoken at five o'clock in the morning, dawn not even flickering at the blinds and after just three hours of exhausted, post-double shift sleep, by her daughter, who had apparently just perfected the new trick of climbing out of her cot. She tried, twice, to put her back to bed, but Sophia was out again before she had even reached the door, and before long she passed off more sleep as a lost cause.

Then she was paged – at the exact moment Sophia chose to pour her bowl of cereal all over the kitchen floor – saying that she was needed at the hospital today. _The joys of being an attending. Damn responsibility. _Luckily Sophia's father was meant to be having her today, so at least she didn't have to make yet another apologetic call to the nanny asking her to do even more overtime. It did mean however, that her beautiful, lovely, much anticipated day at the spa had gone straight out the window.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually had the chance to pamper herself. Certainly not in the two years and three months since she'd had Sophia, nor in the Surgical Residency that preceded it. Nor today, it seemed.

After the first round of disasters, there was a calm period of about twenty minutes when nothing too catastrophic happened, but it was followed in quick succession by the fuse on her hairdryer blowing and knocking out all the power, hitting her head _really _hard in the cupboard under the stairs trying to locate the trip switch and finally by stepping on Sophia's favourite toy car with disastrous consequences that did not look repairable with scotch tape or even superglue, the most potent weapon in her limited toy-fixing armoury.

To top it all off, Sophia, who thankfully had not witnessed the car incident, flatly refused to wear the outfit she'd picked out for her, insisting instead on her best party dress; a beautiful red taffeta ribboned affair sent by her godmother and reserved for very special occasions.

'No sweetheart, you can't wear your dress today. You're going to the park with Daddy, you can't wear a dress to the park.'

'Want that one.' Her chubby little hand pointed determinedly at the dress in question.

'You can't wear it today Sophia, you might rip it or get it muddy.'

'Want that one.' The bottom lip, already stuck outwards in a pout so unbelievably like her father's it was uncanny, was beginning to quiver.

'Come on sweetheart, please. Don't play me up this morning.' She couldn't believe she was arguing with a two year old. How did two year olds even know _how _to argue?

'Want that one.'

'How about this one baby?' She pulled out a different dress, a lemony coloured one with daisies on it that Sophia had almost grown out of – it wouldn't matter too much if something happened to it. She would pack a change of clothes, something more suitable, and see if Sophia, a notorious daddy's girl, would prove more amenable to her father's powers of persuasion. Good luck to him.

Sophia didn't immediately turn her nose up at the daisy dress, which had to be a good sign. Having said that, it still took another twenty minutes of cajoling and bribery to get her to wear it.

Before her daughter had a chance to cause any more havoc, she carried her through to the kitchen and strapped her into her car seat. 'Now, you wait there for a second sweetheart, I'll just be a minute while I get your things, okay?' Sophia began to grizzle. 'One minute baby, one minute.'

She dashed back into the nursery, and grabbed a bag out of the wardrobe, putting two pairs of jeans and a few clean tops into it, as well as all the other things that they would need in it. The grizzling in the kitchen seemed to be stepping up a notch or two in volume, so she hurried back before it became a full blown wail.

Throwing the bags over her shoulder, she gathered up her purse and cellphone, and carried Sophia in her carseat down to the car. Now she had her mother's attention again, the tantrum seemed to be averted.

'See Daddy,' she chirped happily.

'Yes, you're right, you're going to see Daddy. You're going to go and have fun with Daddy today.'

'Go park with Daddy.'

'I'm sure you will.' He seemed determined to turn his daughter into a major league baseball player, but she supposed there were worse things, even if it was a somewhat _unlikely _idea.

Once Sophia was safety strapped into the back of the car, seat and all, she threw the bags in alongside her and pulled out her cell, hitting the first number on speed dial.

'Morning Callie,' a voice drawled.

'Hey Mark.' Six thirty in the morning, and she already sounded exhausted. 'Look, sorry it's short notice, but I'm bringing Sophia around now. I got a page telling me to be at the hospital stat an hour ago, and I'm so late _I'm _going to kill me when I get there, let alone anyone else have a go.'

'Calm down, it's fine. I'm all ready to spend the day with my little princess, you can drop her off anytime.'

Callie sighed in relief. Mark always knew how to de-stress her, often a little _too _well, hence the existence of Sophia. 'Thanks Mark, you're a star.'

'I know.'

'All right, don't get too carried away with yourself. She's a bit fussy this morning – I've tried to give her breakfast but it ended up all over the floor so she might be hungry in a bit. And she insisted on wearing a dress but I've packed her with some other clothes so if you can get her to change, then all the better.'

'Stop worrying, it'll all be under control. Besides, I'm dying to see her. I hate that it's been nearly a week.'

'I know you do,' she said sympathetically. And she did know. Mark was a devoted father, and had been ever since he'd dragged her to the bathroom, stuck a pregnancy test in her hand and waited outside the cubicle while she peed on the little plastic stick. Every scan, every doctor's appointment and Lamaze class, he'd been there. She'd been stunned at first; that he hadn't run screaming, but then, Mark had always had the capability of surprising her. It made her feel guilty that once she'd told him what an awful father he'd make but they'd both come a long way since then – over the last few years he'd probably become her best friend.

'I swear Becky sees more of her than either of us do.' Becky was their nanny.

'I know. I hate it too Mark, I really do.' She could hear him smile down the phone, and she found herself smiling back in spite of herself.

'Cheer up, it could be worse. Come over whenever you're done at the hospital and I'll have dinner ready.'

'You don't have to do that.' She was in the car now, and clicked her seatbelt in.

'My pleasure, honestly.'

'Well, thank you. Anyway, I'd better go, I'm just about to start driving. I'll be over in ten, okay?'

'Okay. Drive carefully.'

Callie shut off her phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat, glancing in the rear view mirror at her daughter. 'All right baby, let's take you to your Daddy's house, shall we?'

'Daddy's house, Daddy's house,' Sophia cooed gleefully.

She started the engine, and carefully reversed out of the parking space. It was too early for George the valet to be around, so she activated the electric gates herself with the buzzer she had, and tapped her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as she waited for them to creak open.

There wasn't much traffic around so she could pull out onto the main road easily. Mark only lived a couple of blocks away – they'd both bought apartments near to each other when Callie was about four months pregnant and they had decided that their lives were about to get far too complicated to be living in hotels or sofa surfing.

She glanced back at Sophia again. Sophia Eleni Torres. She was a truly beautiful little girl, notwithstanding a mother's bias. Sophia had her dark colouring, but she leaned slightly more towards Mark in looks. As far as temperament went… well, she was a little monkey, so she probably got that from both of them. Callie smiled at her, managing to catch her eye, and was rewarded with a thousand watt smile back.

They were both still smiling at each other when the explosive crash of a truck shattered the early morning – and the car – into a million fractured pieces.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Thank you all for the great reception on this story – so nice to hear from a few of you that I haven't heard from before, hopefully I am picking up some new readers! May I offer my apologies for how long it has been since I updated this story – 'You can run' is still my priority until I get it finished, but I thought I'd give you another installment here in case you all forget this exists.

And by the way, thank you for the correction on Callie's heritage, not entirely sure why I had it in my head that she was Greek, probably because of her name (Calliope is one of the muses in Greek mythology, and Iphigenia is also a figure from Greek mythology – and in case you were wondering, the Calliope I knew, but the Iphigenia I did have to look up). Anyway, I've now amended the chapter in order to refrain from commenting on whether she is Greek or otherwise.

Disclaimer: As before

When she first arrived in Los Angeles, in the heady and ambitious spirit of reinvention, Addison had resolved to go running on the beach every day, in the mornings before she went to the clinic. Two weeks in however, a hamstring strain (okay, more like a twinge if she was being honest) reminded her that beaches were for sunbathing on, and her precious pre-work hours were best spent making the most of those last few minutes in bed, or at the very least, kick starting her brain with an early morning dose of caffeine.

She wasn't against the occasional stroll though, and that particular day was dawning bright and sunny, and she felt herself being drawn away from her coffee machine and outside.

Taking her mug of coffee with her, she went out of the big glass doors of her kitchen and across the veranda onto the sugary soft sand. It felt cool and damp between her toes, too early for the sun to have warmed it, and she wandered slowly down to the shoreline.

When she reached the water's edge, she stood there a while, letting the Pacific Ocean curl and bubble around her feet. She liked it her – she loved _this. _She felt more relaxed and at ease with herself than she had done in years, possibly ever. She went to yoga twice a week with Naomi and Violet, and was even embracing the occasional acupuncture session. She drew the line at herbal tea though; nothing could ever make her give up her coffee.

California was different from Seattle. The weather, for one thing – she could just about count on one hand the number of times it had rained since she moved here four years ago. Well, maybe not quite, but it was a thousand times better than Seattle, where she could definitely count on one hand the number of times the sun had shone in the months she had lived there.

It was simpler too. It wasn't perfect, and if she was being really honest, she and Pete had managed to enact a four year saga like love affair that anyone at Seattle Grace would be proud of, but that still was easier than a single day in Seattle, although sometimes it didn't feel that way. Things between her and Pete had becalmed lately, into a sort of friendship that acknowledged that while there might still be some level of attraction there, being more than friends simply didn't work for them.

As for the work… well, that was the one aspect of her life in which she really did miss Seattle. Her job now offered her a much better opportunity to really get to know her patients, but that, and the lack of shift work, was about its only advantage. She missed the fast paced cut and thrust of being in a busy hospital. The working nine 'til five was great though, and more often than not, it wasn't even that much.

A wave, a little taller than the rest, splashed up her legs, and brought her out of her reverie. Thinking about work, she really should be getting there soon – you never knew, there could be a miracle, she might actually have a patient booked.

Three quarters of an hour later, she pulled up outside the Oceanside Wellness Center and got out of the car. There was a coffee cart on the other side of the road, and checking her watch to make sure she wasn't going to be late, she dashed across to it.

'Good morning Doctor Montgomery, how are you this fine morning?'

'I'm well thank you Don.' Addison was a regular at the coffee cart, and she always passed the time of day with the guy who ran it.

'And will it be the usual this morning?'

'Yes please.' She rummaged in her purse for her wallet, and handed him the correct change.

'There we go, one vanilla latte.'

'Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, no doubt.'

'Have a nice day Doctor Montgomery.'

She took a sip of the coffee as she crossed back across the road to the Center. She never asked herself _why _she drank vanilla lattes. She never used to, she didn't have much of a sweet tooth, but since she'd been in L.A. she found herself ordering them more and more often. She decided to put it down to a pleasant sense of nostalgia, mainly because anything else would have been too difficult to contemplate. Although not that difficult, she supposed, the past was the past, and that was where it belonged.

As soon as she stepped through the doors to reception, she heard her name being called. 'Addison. Addison, finally you're here.'

'What do you mean Dell? It's barely a quarter to nine.'

'There's been someone calling for you, over and over again. She said she'd been trying your cell but it was off and she desperately needed to speak to you. She was… kinda scary actually. I've left you messages.'

'I, uhh… I switched my phone off when I had a bath last night, I guess I forgot to switch it back on again.' She frowned, trying to think of who might be trying to reach her. 'What was their name?'

'It was,' he looked down at his message book, 'a Miranda Bailey. She sounded like… I don't know. Upset.'

Miranda? Miranda upset? In an instant, Addison felt the bonhomie that had been surrounding her that morning turn ice cold. She didn't keep in touch all that much with people in Seattle – Callie, a little (she was godmother to her little girl), Miranda even less, Richard very occasionally, and Derek and Mark had birthday and Christmas card status, but that was it. Miranda would only be calling her if something was wrong. A nervous fear gripped her, and she felt a little sick. What had happened? Who had it happened to?

She turned to Dell, not aware that the colour had drained from her face. 'What number did she leave?'

He read it out. It wasn't the hospital, it must be her home number.

'Write it down and give it to me. And Dell, please can you cancel all my appointments for the next few days, I… I think I may have to go out of town.'

'Out of town? Where?'

'Seattle. I used to work with Miranda Bailey at Seattle Grace.'

'Oh, okay. Is there anything else I can do? You're not looking so good, Addison. Do you want a coffee or something?'

She reached out instinctively and grasped her vanilla latte. She took a sip, and momentarily, she felt a little better. 'No, I'm all right. I just need to speak to Miranda. And… could you start looking up flights to Seattle for me, just in case?'

She hurried to her office, and shut the door behind her. She realised as she sat down that she was on the brink of hyperventilating, and she took deep breaths to try to calm herself down. Every scenario that ran through her head was awful. The idea that something may have happened to Derek, or Mark was just…

She looked down at the coffee, and as always, it invoked a myriad of emotions, but today, the most overwhelming one was that she hoped nothing had happened to _him _either.

Of course, the only way to stop her mind racing was to call Miranda. With a slightly shaking hand, she dialled the number Dell had scrawled down for her.

'Hello?'

'Miranda? Miranda, it's Addison, what's happened? What's wrong?'

'Oh Addison, thank God you called. I've been trying to get hold of you.'

'I know, I'm sorry. What is it?'

'Addison, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but there was a car accident this morning, Callie… Callie died.'

'Oh my God.' Numbness spread through her body. Callie. Callie? God, not Callie. Immediately the recriminations started in her head, she should have kept in better touch, called more often. 'How?' she asked shakily.

'She was on her way to work, taking Sophia over to Mark's, and a truck hit the car. We don't know why or how or anything like that yet. She… she died instantly.'

Slowly, Miranda's words filtered through the fog of shock and grief in Addison's mind. 'Sophia? Sophia was in the car? Is she…?'

'She's fine. She was a bit shaken up at first, but she's asleep now. She doesn't know about her mum yet. I've got her with me at the moment.'

'Where's Mark?'

'In no fit state to be looking after a child right now, I think he's still at the hospital. Derek's going to take him to the funeral home later to – to make arrangements.'

Addison could hear that Miranda was crying, and then she saw a tear of her own splash down on the desk. 'Well, I'll be there as soon as I can. I've got someone looking into flights for me as we speak. Where shall I go?'

'To my house. You have my address?'

'Somewhere. I'll call you when I land.'

'Thank you Addison, and please come as soon as you can. We need you here.'


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you very much for the kind and lovely reviews you have left for me, I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter just as much. And I especially hope that you will leave me a review and let me know what you think of this instalment.

Disclaimer: As before.

It was nearly three o'clock by the time Addison eased her hire car to a halt outside the address she had scrawled on a scrap of paper before she left L.A. that morning. She got out, and climbed the few steps up to the blue painted front door. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Addison was surprised at the look of the house – it was very suburban, a nice family street with kid's toys and bikes in the front gardens – so un-Miranda. Or at least, the Miranda she knew.

She rang the bell, and waited in silence. She still couldn't absorb the news that Callie was dead, or even being back in Seattle. Part of her, a hopeful, unrealistic, idealistic part, kept thinking she was going to wake up in a moment and be back in bed, greeted by the early morning sun glinting on the ocean. The rest of her knew full well she was awake, and in Seattle. There was rain, so there was no question she was in Seattle.

After a minute or so, she heard footsteps approaching, and the door opened.

'Addison, you're here. Come on in.'

Miranda didn't hug her, but Addison thought that she'd never looked closer to needing some human comfort.

'You found the place okay?'

'Yes, your directions were good.' She didn't know how to bring up Callie, and looked at Miranda awkwardly. Working at a hospital, death was something so mundane, so _everyday, _that even though sometimes it was terrible, you became… not used to it, but used to living with it. You had given literally thousands of people the worst news of their life, yet when it was someone _you _knew, _you _cared about… She couldn't find the words.

Miranda saw her dilemma, and had a go at a smile, though she was pretty sure it came out as a grimace. 'Come on through to the kitchen, I'll put the kettle on.'

Addison followed her through a hallway, with a pale maple wood floor littered with toys and so many photographs of Tuck hung on the buttermilk walls that she found it difficult to equate Miranda the mother as Miranda the calm, disciplinarian surgeon.

The kitchen was large and looked homely, but had an air of clinical cleanliness that said that it was rarely used. It was a feel that Addison recognised completely – she wasn't quite as reliant on restaurants and takeouts these days, with the benefit of clinic hours, but when she was in New York, the pristine kitchen in the brownstone was identical on the day they sold it as to what it had been when they'd had it installed, six years earlier.

Addison perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, and waited quietly until a mug of coffee was placed in her hands. After a sip, she felt almost strong enough to talk about why she'd just flown virtually the entire length of the west coast of America at the drop of a hat.

'So…' she began, but faltered. Clearly _almost _strong enough wasn't the same as _actually _strong enough. She looked imploringly at Miranda, begging her to say something.

'I'm sorry about Callie, Addison, I know you were good friends.'

'I hate that I didn't call, visit, more often.'

'She'd understand. Did she call and visit you?'

'No, not much.'

'Well then. You're both busy women, you're surgeons, and Callie was a mother. How often you picked up the phone isn't how you should measure the strength of your friendship.'

Addison knew Miranda was absolutely right, and her particular no nonsense brand of sympathy was comfortingly familiar. 'I know,' she admitted.

'Then stop it. I didn't ask you here to wallow.'

'I'm still in shock I think. I just can't believe it… Callie's dead… Do you know anything more about what happened yet?'

'Not really. I spoke to Derek around lunchtime and he said the police were saying that the truck's brakes might have failed but it's too early to know anything for certain. I'm not sure it matters how it happened though Addison, what counts is what happens next.'

'Sophia. Where is she?' Addison looked around. 'And where's Tuck, come to that?'

'He's at a birthday party this afternoon. Sophia is upstairs having a nap.' She tilted her head in the direction of a baby monitor sitting on the kitchen counter. Miranda looked awkward for a moment, then determined, as if there was something that she had to say. 'Look, Addison, you know I called and asked you to come down here.'

'Yes, and I can stay for a while; a couple of weeks at least, definitely until after… after the funeral.'

'I'm not entirely sure how to tell you this, but you're going to have to stick around for longer than that.'

Addison frowned in confusion. 'What are you talking about?'

'Did you and Callie ever talk about who would take care of Sophia if something –'

'Yes, we did. Callie and Mark asked me at the christening that if they should ever… die… they would want me to be her guardian. I am her godmother, after all, and neither Callie nor Mark are particularly close to their families. It was… logical, I guess. They never mentioned it again, but I expect it's in their wills or something.'

She paused, and put her mug down abruptly. She was beginning to see where Miranda might be going with this, but she couldn't get her head around it at all. 'I don't understand,' she said. 'I mean, I do, I see what you're trying to tell me, but I don't understand. Mark's still alive, Mark's fine. He's Sophia's father; surely she will live with him from now on?'

Miranda shook her head a little. 'Apparently it's not that simple. I don't know the exact legal status of the arrangements yet, but when I went to the hospital to collect Sophia this morning Mark told me that after you and he and Callie agreed that you would have her if something happened to both of them, Callie got it in her head that a little girl would need a mother and in her will, she put that if _she _died, and Mark didn't, you would share custody of Sophia with Mark.'

She gave a small, half shrug, as if she didn't know quite what else to say. 'And that's why I was so desperate to talk to you this morning, for you to come straight here.'

Addison stared at the other woman, utterly stunned. She could feel her jaw slackened with shock, and she knew her mouth must be open in a particularly unflattering cod-like gape, but she really didn't know what else to do. She had custody of Sophia… that didn't make sense. It just… didn't. Custody of Sophia meant no more California, and sunshine, and peace of mind.

But then, it also meant a child. _A child. A daughter. Callie's daughter, but who might, one day, be a little bit hers as well. _As it began to sink in, Addison could see it through Callie's eyes – not only was she leaving her daughter with a mother substitute, she was giving Addison what she knew was the very best possible gift in the world. God, it was so Callie. Selfless.

Miranda allowed the silence to hang between them for a while, but after she watched the hands of the clock slide around for five whole minutes, she felt compelled to speak. 'Addison?' she asked softly. 'Are you all right?'

'I don't know,' she answered honestly. 'I don't know what to think.'

There was another long silence, punctuated only by the sound of a slight grizzle emitting from the baby monitor. They both turned to look at it, and Miranda half rose out of her seat, but Sophia quietened down again in a matter of seconds.

'You're sure about this?' Addison said eventually.

'Mark told me. He was upset, but he knew what he was talking about. He would have known what Callie wanted, Addison. They were very close.'

'What happens now?' The coffee was getting cold, but Addison still drank it. She needed

'Nothing official for a while I guess, but you need to think about the practicalities.'

'You mean move back to Seattle.'

'Well, obviously it's your decision, but I think you need to consider –'

Addison cut her off. 'It's okay, I know I have to come back. I'll make some arrangements as soon as… as soon as I get my head around everything. I'm not sure I could handle realtors right now.'

'What about Sophia?'

'That's something you and Mark are going to have to talk about between yourselves.'

_Mark._

One thing that hadn't entered Addison's mind, what with the complete, mind numbing, _shell-shattering _shock of the day's events, was Mark. Her and Mark, Callie and Mark… suddenly she saw a minefield stretching ahead of them, a tangled web of past and present that could have the power to somehow impede their future. Whatever future that may be.

She didn't know how they could even begin to address… Or even if they should. It was all in the past now, after all. But on the other hand, she'd thought Seattle was in her past as she strolled, carefree, this morning in the warm surf of the Pacific Ocean.

Nothing was as she'd thought it was anymore. Facts of her life – California, childlessness – had been turned on their head, and it had left her feeling dizzy to the point of nausea.

She must have reacted in some way, gone pale or been staring too long into the distance, because without noticing her move, Miranda now seemed to be at her elbow, with a glass of water.

'Are you all right?' she asked again.

'No.' Addison shook her head, but stopped when she realised it made the nausea worse. 'I'm not all right Miranda. I'm…' She looked at her, pale and wide eyed. 'Oh God. Oh God,' she repeated, squeezing the words out over the lump in her throat. The numbness was wearing off now, the shock turning to grief. She could hear her voice shaking.

With a trembling hand, she lifted the glass and took a sip of water, trying to calm herself. When she felt she could speak again, she put her head in her hands and groaned, the realisation, the irony, dawning on her.

'Five years ago, I went to unforgiveable lengths to not have a child with Mark Sloan. And now, suddenly… I have one. _I have a daughter._'

Before Miranda had a chance to respond, the doorbell rang.


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you once again for the reviews on the last chapter; I know I say this every time, but I love hearing your thoughts on it. It's so encouraging to hear that you're enjoying it and like where it's going. I hope you continue to do so.

Disclaimer: As before.

Addison and Miranda looked at each other in silence, and Miranda saw the other woman's eyes slide towards the direction of the door with apprehension written all over her face. She wasn't one for wallowing, but Miranda couldn't help but feel sorry for Addison. Her life had been turned upside down so many times now. She knew she wasn't blameless by any stretch of the imagination, certainly not for New York, and so much else had stemmed from that, but still.

Miranda knew she wouldn't be able to live with so much upheaval in her own life, and amidst her grief over Callie, she felt her heart warm with thankfulness for what she had. Her life, her home life anyway, might be pedestrian, but she wouldn't change it for the world.

The doorbell rang again, and she stood up. 'I have to go and answer that.'

Addison nodded. 'Okay.'

While Miranda was gone, she looked idly around the kitchen, trying to stop some of the thoughts chasing around in her head. If she couldn't switch off for a minute, she was worried that her head might explode. She forced herself to empty her brain of thoughts, and take in her surroundings.

Taped to the huge, stainless steel fridge, there were two brightly coloured finger paintings, clearly done by Tuck, and a myriad of notes that said things like _Samuel Henderson's birthday party, Saturday afternoon, Chuck E Cheese – don't forget to buy Transformer. _There was a growth chart tacked to a wall and a number of marks with dates next to them on it.

Would her kitchen, wherever she may end up living, contain such an obvious sign of motherhood? Only a mother could display a neon mess like the paintings with pride, or immerse herself with any level of interest or enthusiasm in a social life that involved Chuck E Cheese.

She couldn't imagine her life containing that. She tried, but she just couldn't envisage it somehow, which set off another spiral of panicked thoughts. Was she even capable of being a mother? Or was she getting ahead of herself, calling herself a _mother_? Sophia was Callie's daughter, not hers. And suppose Mark contested it, went for sole custody – he was bound to win, there was no reason why he wouldn't. Where would that leave her? Stuck in Seattle, with no-one, all over again.

_Stop it Addison, _she told herself firmly. _Just stop it, right now. _Her head was spinning so much she felt dizzy.

Trying to distract herself, she listened to see if she could hear who was at the door. Miranda had been gone a couple of minutes, so it must be someone she couldn't get rid of easily. Straining her ears, she found that she couldn't make out anything that was being said, but the voices were achingly familiar. Immediately, her heart jumped into her mouth.

Her pulse racing, she rose from the chair and made her way towards the voices without entirely being aware of moving. It only took half a minute at the most to leave the kitchen and walk along the corridor back to the hall, but it was the longest thirty seconds of her life. For the first time since she'd heard about the accident, Callie was not the foremost thing in her mind; it was suddenly filled with flashes of memories – New York, dancing with Derek at their wedding and the thunderous look on his face on a stormy night. Mark, his hands, his lips. A pair of panties, revenge, passion, sorrow.

The two men standing on the doorstep right now were such an integral part of her life, of who she was, that she couldn't comprehend that it had been two years, since the christening, that she had seen either of them. As with Callie, she wished she'd called more often. They were her friends; everyone in Seattle was, even though it hadn't felt like it by the time she left. God, what had she been thinking, taking off to California? What had it achieved, really? She took a deep breath, and stepped out into the hallway.

It was Derek who saw her first. They were standing just inside the front door, and as soon as he realised she was there, he stepped towards her, holding his arms out. She went to him without thinking twice, and let him fold her into his chest, revelling in the comfort of familiarity. He still used the same aftershave, and smelt the same as he always had, and she breathed in his scent, drawing strength from it.

He kissed her hair. 'I'm sorry Addie,' he said quietly. 'How are you?'

'Still in shock,' she murmured. 'I can't believe it.'

'I don't think any of us can.'

With one last squeeze, Derek let go of her, and she turned to Mark, but she did a double take when she saw him. He looked _dreadful. _His face was drawn and haggard, and when she looked closely, his eyes were a little puffy; he'd obviously been crying. There were dark, haunted circles under his eyes, and he seemed to have aged ten years since she'd last seen him. He looked like a man who was utterly heartbroken, which was so far removed from the Mark Sloan that she knew so well that it broke her heart a little as well.

'Oh Mark…' She tried to hug him, but his arms hung limply by his side, and he made no effort to greet her. His skin was frightening cold to the touch.

He moved out of her reach and shook his head, his expression anguished. 'Sorry Addison, I just…' He turned to Miranda. 'Where's Sophia? I want to see my daughter, I need to see her.' There was a vague sense of panic in his voice – even though he'd already seen her since the accident, it was as if he needed to check that she was still all right.

'It's okay Mark.' She indicated towards the staircase. 'Second door on the left. Go quietly, she's asleep.'

The three of them watched him go, then Miranda spoke up. 'Come on through to the kitchen Derek, Addison and I were just having a coffee.'

He smiled wanly. 'Thanks, I could do with one.'

Miranda ushered them through and poured fresh coffees but quickly made her excuses, leaving them to talk. As soon as they were sitting, Addison started quizzed Derek. Miranda had given her as many details as she knew, but she needed to know more. 'What happened, do you know any more yet?'

'Not really. They're rushing the post mortem through but it's fairly obvious that she died from massive internal injuries. The cops say they aren't going to hold the truck driver – apparently he's in quite a state himself. It's sounding like mechanical failure, the brakes they think, though I expect it will be a few days until they know for certain.'

'Still, even if it was mechanical, it must be someone's fault.'

'Does it matter whose fault it was Addie? The outcome is still the same.'

She thought about it for a moment. 'I guess you're right. It doesn't bring her back, does it?'

Derek closed his eyes for a moment, and sipped his coffee. While he did so, Addison watched him. He looked older, and wiser, than the man she married, but more at peace somehow, which she knew that on any other day, in any other set of circumstances, would show as happiness. He and Meredith were engaged now, and she was happy for them.

'How's Mark doing?' she asked.

'Not well. I've never seen him like this, he's barely spoken all day. I think he's only beginning to realise just how much in love with Callie he actually was.' He paused, as if he was trying to decide whether to say something or not. 'He saw the accident. Not it actually happening, but it was only a block away from him, and when he heard the sirens from his apartment he went out to see what it was all about. And then he saw…'

'Oh God,' Addison shuddered in horror. 'That's _awful_.'

'He called me, but I couldn't understand what he was saying, he was just talking gibberish. I could hear a siren in the background so I went down to the ER to see if they'd heard about an incident, and I managed to speak to a paramedic over the radio.'

Addison put her head in her hands, and tried to assimilate this new information. It was too horrible to comprehend. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to Mark to be walking towards the scene of an accident, just to offer his services or whatever, only to see the mangled remains of Callie's car there, perhaps to hear his daughter crying amidst the chaos…

'Poor Mark,' she muttered. 'Poor, poor Mark.'

She looked up at Derek, and realised then how drained he looked. She reached out, and squeezed his hand briefly. 'What about you, how are you doing?'

'I'm okay,' he said unconvincingly. 'Well, I was until today anyway,' he clarified more certainly, when she gave him a look.

'Have you and Meredith set a date for the wedding yet?'

'Not officially, but we thought maybe Christmas Eve. She wants a winter wedding.'

'That would be lovely.'

'Plus we could go on honeymoon and not have to have my mother or my sisters around for Christmas.'

Addison almost found herself smiling. 'Win win then.'

'Absolutely.'

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute or two, before either of them spoke again. They caught each other's gaze, and Derek smiled, a small genuine smile which was the first one any of them had managed all day.

'I'm glad you're back Addie. We need you here. It's not the same without you, you know.'

She looked at him sceptically. 'Can I have that in writing?'

'No,' he said quickly, though a slight sparkle in his eyes took the harsh edge off his response, 'and I'll never admit to having said it, even under torture.'

'You will, or I'll tell Nancy you don't want her to stay for Christmas.'

He was about to throw a comeback at her, but their banter was swiftly cut off by a sound over the baby monitor. They both turned to look at it as a little voice suddenly filled the kitchen, and Addison felt her eyes fill with tears as she heard the words.

'_Daddy?' _

'_Daddy's right here sweetheart. I'm right here.'_

'_Where Mummy?'_

'_She's… She…'_

'_Daddy's crying. Why Daddy crying?'_


	5. Chapter 4

Author's Note: First of all, I would like to apologise that it's been a while since I updated this. Due to a chronic lack of time and inability to create any sort of work/life balance, I can't really manage to produce more than one chapter a week, but unfortunately as I have two stories on the go (well, about half a dozen dormant stories, but only two active ones) that means I have to beg for your patience rather a lot. Secondly, thank you so much for all the reviews, I love hearing what you have to say about the story. And third… here, have a chapter – enjoy!

Disclaimer: As before

Addison and Derek looked at each other as the sounds from the baby monitor filled the kitchen, and somehow managed to turn the warm room icy cold. As their eyes met, Addison realised that there were tears glistening on Derek's lashes as well. It had been a _long _time since she'd seen Derek even almost crying, but she supposed it would take a heart of stone not to be moved by the little girl's words.

'Oh Derek,' she whispered.

He was shaking his head slowly. 'That's… God damn it Addison, that's…' He didn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, but she knew what he meant. There weren't really any words to do justice to the depth of the tragedy they were feeling.

'One of us should go up to him,' she said. 'He can't do this on his own. It's too hard.'

'I don't know.'

'You're his best friend Derek. When Meredith nearly drowned, who sat with you on the floor of a hospital corridor for hours? Who has always been there for you, even when you didn't want him to be?'

'Mark,' he conceded. 'But I think this one is up to you Addie.'

'What do you mean?'

'You're a part of Sophia's life now. You're part of her family, you and Mark and Sophia. If either of us go upstairs, it should be you.'

He was looking at her earnestly, and without any hint of anger or resentment darkening the idea of her and Mark being some sort of a family, but Addison felt a shaft of fear pierce her. She had no idea what to say to Mark, or Sophia. She didn't know if she could do this, any of it. This wasn't… scripted. She couldn't read up on what to do in a medical journal. This she had to find within her, and she didn't know where to even start looking.

Derek seemed to sense her hesitation. 'Go on. They need you,' he encouraged her.

'I don't know if I can do it,' she admitted.

'Which part?'

'Sophia, Mark. All of it. I don't know what to say to either of them.'

He remembered the day that Addison had referred to, when he had pulled Meredith out of the freezing waters of the Puget Sound. As they had been working on her, and Bailey had made him wait outside, he'd feared the worst. He was a neurosurgeon, and he knew very well that people weren't okay after prolonged oxygen deprivation, and her blue lips and cold skin still haunted him.

Sitting outside in that corridor, he had honestly felt his world ending, everything slipping away, and there were no words of comfort that could have helped. The only thing that had broken through the numbness had been Mark's hand on his arm. Mark's presence. Even though it was at a time when there was no-one in the world he would less want to see, still there was no-one in the world he would rather have had sitting next to him either. Just as there was no-one he would rather have had in there trying to save her life than Addison. Some bonds just… transcended circumstances.

'You don't need to say anything Addison. You just need to be there.'

Slowly, she nodded, understanding. Maybe it was okay that she didn't have a clue what to say. But Derek was right, her place was up there in that bedroom, with Sophia.

'Okay.' She put her coffee mug to one side, and stood up. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and gave Derek's arm a quick squeeze. 'Thank you. I don't really know how to do this, but talking to you, it's helped, so…'

He put his hand over hers for a fleeting second. 'No problem. Any time.' They met each other's eyes deeply for a moment, but it carried on a fraction too long – too much history, too many memories – and they both let their hands fall away from each other simultaneously.

'I think you'd better go upstairs now.'

She nodded in agreement, and made her way to the door. It struck her suddenly that as soon as she left the kitchen, and went into that bedroom, she was going to be entering a whole new chapter in her life, and she thought of something else.

'Derek?' He looked up. 'Could you do me a favour?'

'What?'

'Could you talk to Richard for me? I… I guess I'm going to need a job here.'

Derek smiled at her. 'I'll take care of it. Now, go on.'

Very slowly, Addison climbed the stairs, noting the line of photographs of Tuck hanging on the wall, dating from when he was a baby right up until the most recent ones of him that were obviously taken by an official photographer, possibly at pre-school. Again, she was struck by how different Miranda-the-Surgeon was from Miranda-the-Mother. She hoped she would do half as good a job as Miranda at juggling the two.

The door on the bedroom – second on the left as Miranda had described – was ajar, and Addison could hear Sophia talking, but clearly Mark was unable to respond to her, as she was asking, 'Daddy, Daddy?' over and over again.

She pushed the door open, and immediately a sob caught in her throat. Sophia – a proper, beautiful little person now rather than the baby she had been when she last saw her – was tucked up in an enormous double bed and Mark was sitting beside her. He was stroking her hair but Addison could see his hand shaking. Neither of them looked around at her and she wasn't sure they had noticed she was there, so she stayed where she was in the doorway, watching.

'Daddy?' Sophia asked again. 'Why Daddy crying?'

'Because…' Mark choked out. 'I'm – I'm crying because… Because I'm sad baby.'

'Why you sad Daddy?'

Addison felt the tears running freely down her cheeks now, and wanted nothing more than to hug them both.

'Sophia, I'm sad because…'

He was obviously trying his hardest to find the words to explain what had happened to the little girl, but he was just too upset. Every time he started to speak, he stumbled and Addison could hear the lump in his throat.

After a couple more attempts, she heard him take a deep, shaky breath.

'Addison?' he said, not taking his eyes off his daughter.

She jumped – he hadn't given any indication that he knew she was there – but took a step towards them. 'I'm right here.'

'I can't do this. Help me.'

She expected her brain to freeze, or to scream at her to flee, but she was surprised to find herself walking towards the bed with a surety that appeared from nowhere and perched on the opposite side to Mark. Instead of panic at the enormity of everything, all she could see was a little girl without a mother, and an old, old friend, who needed her. She couldn't bring Callie back, but she could help.

She sat down, and took Sophia's small hand. 'Sophia, you won't remember me because I haven't seen you since you were a baby,' she began, but stopped. She was talking to her as if she was five or six years old, not a toddler. She needed to pitch it lower.

She tried again. 'Do you have a red party dress?'

Her dark eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. 'It's my bestest dress.'

'Well, I gave you the dress as a present. I asked your mummy to give it to you.'

'Thank you.'

_Impeccable manners, _Addison noted. _Callie would be proud. _

'That's okay. So I'm one of your mummy's friend's, and your daddy's. My name is Addison, but you can call me Addie if you want.'

'Addie,' she repeated.

'Good girl. Now, listen to me carefully sweetie. You know how your mummy and daddy are doctors, and when someone is poorly, they try to make them feel better again?'

The child stared at her, wide eyed, as if she could sense somehow that what was coming was going to be important. She probably did, Addison reasoned. Children, even tiny ones, often understood things far better than adults gave them credit for.

'Well, sometimes people are so poorly that the doctors can't make them better again, so they can't live here with us anymore, and they have to go to heaven and live with the angels instead. And when your car crashed this morning, it made mummy poorly, and the doctors couldn't make her better again.'

She almost stalled, but just as the quaver in her voice was about to get the better of her, she felt Mark's familiar hand on hers, and automatically, she held it tightly, but not as tightly as he was grasping hers. As if he might drown if he let go.

'So Sophia, mummy had to go to live with the angels,' she finished.

The pouty bottom lip began to wobble. 'I want my mummy.'

'She can't be here with us anymore sweetheart, I'm sorry.'

'Want mummy,' she began to cry.

In the face of Sophia's increasingly desperate pleas, Addison was finding it hard to maintain her composure. She wanted Callie too. She wanted Callie to walk in the door and for everything to be okay. She wanted this all to be over.

_Except she didn't. _She wanted Callie to be alive, but she didn't want to be in L.A., peaceful and alone. She wanted to be right here, with Sophia, and Mark, and Derek, Miranda, everyone. Here. _Seattle. Seattle Grace. _Alive. Confused, and hurting, but _alive._

Mark let go of her hand, and drew his daughter into his arms. 'Come here baby, come to daddy. It's okay,' he said, even though it wasn't. 'It's okay baby, daddy's here.' She was wailing now, and Mark murmured soothingly until she began to quieten down.

Holding her gently, he stood up. 'Come on Sophia,' he said, 'let's go home.'

Addison sat on the bed, and watched them go. Mark, numb and grief stricken though he was, looked like a different man with his child in his arms. A better one, a greater man than she had ever known him to be.

He was at the door before he turned around and looked at her. 'You coming?'

'What?'

'I'm taking Sophia home. Are you coming?'


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Last updated over a month ago… I do hope I still have a few readers out there! Apologies for the hiatus, it has been entirely unintentional, but life is simply insane at the moment. Work has taken over my life and amidst all that, I've decided now is an excellent time to buy my first house, so I am barely keeping my head above water at the moment, so please bear with me on the update front. I have managed to cobble this together though, so hopefully you will enjoy.

Disclaimer: As before

Addison leaned forward to pick her glass of wine from the table carefully, and took a long sip, draining the glass. The alcohol – it wasn't her first glass – was by now knocking off the sharper edges of the horror of the day and she was tempted by opening another bottle (she knew from old that Mark always kept an excellent selection of wine in the house) but in order to do so she would have to get up and she didn't want to disturb him.

She looked down at him. He was asleep, fitfully, and as she absently stroked his hair, it struck her how childlike he looked, which was something she had never seen in him before. Even with his eyes closed, there was an incredibly sad expression on his face, and earlier, she had noticed there was a tear on his cheek.

Addison had to confess to herself, she was surprised, stunned even, at Mark's grief. This wasn't a man who had lost a colleague or a friend or even the mother of his child; he was as shocked and stricken as any bereaved husband she had ever seen. His face was the same blanched white as the walls of his apartment and his eyes were… Well, the look in his eyes made her want to cry herself.

She hadn't realised that he and Callie felt that way about each other. She didn't suppose there was any reason why either of them should have told her, but in a way she felt she should have noticed that two of her best friends were _so _in love. She tried to think back to the christening, and how they had been with each other then, and she couldn't remember either of them giving any sort of indication that there was _this _between them. They had seemed close, with a deep understanding between them, but in love?

She had spoken to Callie periodically, and she had often asked what her relationship with Mark was like, as neither of them had ever seemed to be with anyone else, and she remembered the last conversation they had had, a good couple of months ago now.

Callie had just been quizzing her about her lack of sex life, and in order to deflect a little attention, Addison had turned the question around.

'What about you? You're the person who works in most sexually charged hospital in the world; you must have something to tell.'

'Well…' Callie had hesitated before she answered, and Addison knew her well enough to jump on it.

'Ooh, you do have something to tell. Is it anyone I know?'

'Well, Mark and I always said that now we have Sophia we were going to grow up and stop this whole sleeping with each other because we can thing, and we've stuck to that, but… I don't know, things have been a bit different lately.'

'Different how?'

'Just… Not about sex. I mean, a couple of days ago, I had a _rotten _day at work, lost two patients and one of them was a little boy about the same age as Sophia and it was just horrible. Little Miss was at Mark's so I had to go round there and pick her up before I went home, and he was just so… lovely.'

'Mark, lovely?' Addison had asked sceptically. The Mark Sloan she knew, friend though he was, was only lovely for one reason, and one reason only.

Callie had clearly known what she was getting at. 'No, really, he was. He had Sophia all bathed and in bed by the time I got there, and cooked me dinner, and made me feel better about the patients, said all the right things. He insisted I stayed over, but he didn't try it on or anything, he was just… lovely,' she finished.

'So, is it leading anywhere?' Addison had quizzed her.

'I don't know.'

'Do you want it to?'

There had been a silence while Callie had considered the answer. 'I… I haven't really thought about it. I mean, because we have Sophia, Mark's a part of my life and always will be, and… I guess I always want him to be. I can't imagine him not being there, I don't want to imagine it.' There had been a pause while the cogs ticked over in her mind and Addison had waited.

'Oh, I don't know,' she'd said in the end. 'My head spins these days if I think about anything other than work or Sophia. Mark makes it spin less.'

The conversation had ended shortly after that and Addison had practically forgotten about it until now. It niggled though. Something wasn't entirely right; Callie's indecision and lack of thought about her relationship with Mark didn't tally with the earth shattering grief before her now. Perhaps Mark had felt more than she did. Or, and now Addison thought of it, this struck her as far and away the most likely, perhaps Mark simply hadn't realised what he had, what he and Callie had together, until he lost it. Until he lost her.

There was nothing like losing someone to make you realise how you really felt about them, and God, did she know that was true.

Gently she stroked Mark's hair, then ran her long, cool fingers over his cheek. He looked beautiful, and tragic and exactly the same as she remembered and completely different at the same time. He looked uncomfortable, lying there, his legs all awkward and his neck cricked into her lap, and it was getting late so she shook his shoulder and whispered softly.

'Mark.'

There was no reaction.

'Mark, come on, wake up.'

After a while, he screwed his eyes up and sat up, his hand on the side of his neck where the muscle was strained. 'Why did you wake me?' His voice was dull, flat.

'Because you can't sleep on the sofa all night. You wouldn't be able to move in the morning.' She briefly contemplated trying out a teasing little joke, something feeble along the lines of not being as young as he used to be, but anyone could see that his emotions were too raw to appreciate any attempt at jollity.

'What if I don't want to?'

There was no real answer to that, not any that he wanted to hear anyway. 'Because you have to,' she replied. 'You have to move every morning, every day, until one day you suddenly realise that hey, that wasn't quite as hard as it was yesterday, then a whole week will have gone past. Then a month. Then –'

'Don't patronise me Addison.' Even that response was lifeless; she'd hoped for his sake she would get more of a reaction.

'I'm not. I'm saying what Callie would say to you.'

To her surprise, and horror, Mark's face crumpled and his shoulders began to shake and suddenly he burst into tears. His sobs were noisy, and there was a desperate note to them that pierced Addison's heart. She held her arms out and drew him towards her. Immediately, she felt his hot tears on her shoulder.

'I love her,' he sobbed. 'I love her so much Addison. I love her, and she's gone,' he repeated, over and over. 'Why couldn't I tell her?'

There was nothing she could say, so silently she just held him.


	7. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter, I love the idea that there are actually people out there who enjoy reading what I write. I always love that you tell me! I hope you continue to enjoy…

Disclaimer: As before. Particular disclaiming with regards to the rather obvious extract from Season 3 Episode 12.

Addison was sitting on a stool beside Sophia's cot, watching the little girl sleep and waiting for morning. She had heard her crying about an hour ago and not wanting to disturb Mark – or possessing the courage to face him – she had slipped away and gone to her before he stirred. Sophia hadn't taken long to settle, but Addison had continued to stay with her, telling herself that she wanted to be there in case she woke up again, that she didn't want the child to be alone. In truth, _she _didn't want to be alone.

The night had been terrible, terrible in that awful, horrific sort of way that left you cold to the bone and utterly traumatised. She almost thought she was shell-shocked. By the time a sickly grey dawn bled under the blinds, Addison felt as if every last iota of her strength had been sapped away.

They had stayed on the sofa for a very long time, and she cradled Mark in her arms until his sobs had gradually subsided and he had fallen asleep again. This time, she didn't have the heart to wake him and after a while of watching his anguished face in the dim lamplight, Addison slipped into her own troubled version of sleep.

Her dreams had been dark and confusing, full of the sound of crashing cars with crunching metal, screaming sirens and Sophia's wails building to a crescendo above it all. Then everything would fall silent, and flashes of memory would be dancing through her mind; memories of Seattle, of Derek, and of Mark. Arguments and cutting remarks, disappointment and humiliation. That gut wrenching addiction that she'd had to Mark – always the desperate want, followed by the desperate self loathing. And the good bits – Callie. Always Callie, or the sense of her, was on the edge of every fragment that passed through her head. Babies she saved, mothers she helped. Karev's smile.

_Karev's smile. _Such a smile. She remembered the way it used to come out of the blue and just change her whole day. She could be reeling from another of Derek's bitter barbs, or bubbling with fury at Mark, and then one of those smiles would sweep it all away. And in her dreams, she liked to forget what came after, and just cocoon herself in the memory of the kindness found in such an unexpected place.

She had found herself in that delicious state of dreaming just on the cusp between sleep and wakefulness when you're still in the dream but you know it's just a dream yet you find that you have the power, fleeting though it may be, to dictate events. And for once, instead of bringing down the shutter in her mind and banning herself from revisiting anything from that time, she used the dream to give herself a different ending.

'Hey.' He slid onto the stool next to her, his eyes exhausted.

She tapped at the rim of her glass pensively, and looked up at him. 'You got a dad?'

She'd always wondered why she had asked him that, but remembered at that moment, after that day, she'd really wanted to know.

'Not really. Not anymore.'

The monotone simplicity of his response told her far more than a blow-by-blow account ever could. She'd realised then that that look in his eyes, which until now she'd always mistaken for tiredness or cynicism or downright hostility depending on what mood he'd seemed to be in at the time, was in fact pain. The pain of a lingering damage to his soul.

Yet still he'd found it in his heart to be kind.

She'd sat there, fighting with her conscience, until the desire to try to mend his soul, and hers with it, overcame everything else, and when he gave her that sad smile she was lost. Gazing at him, she'd reached out and stroked his beautiful face.

Then slowly he leaned towards her with such a look of understanding in his deep brown eyes and she came forward to meet him and then there was this incredible, amazing, stunning kiss that both stopped her heart and jump started it at the same time. She could feel his lips on hers now, caressing, and the _taste _of him.

Eventually, they broke apart and she pulled her hands away from where they had been cradling his face.

'What now?' He had asked, and then she had realised that one of his hands, which she had thought had been resting resolutely on the top of the bar throughout the kiss, and was resting on her knee. His skin was cold, but she felt a warmth radiate out through her body.

And that was the moment where she took control of the dream. Instead of brushing his hand away and jumping to her feet, flustered and scared by just how right the last minute of her life had been, and muttering something about early rounds and too much alcohol, she didn't flee.

In the dream, she took his hand and carefully entwined her fingers with his. Looking up at him, she gave an uncertain little shrug. 'I don't want you to think –'

'I don't,' Dream-Alex cut across her. 'Trust me I don't.'

She let herself be pulled to her feet, and grabbed her purse while Alex took one last swig from the bottle of beer.

'Where do you live?' she asked him.

He shook his head. 'Not my place.'

Then, with that fabulous fluidity of time and space that dreams offered, they were in her hotel room at the Archfield, just as she remembered it. And Alex was lowering her onto the bed, and unbuttoning her blouse, kissing her all the while with the same tenderness and care as he had in the bar. Even now she could feel the ghost of his hands on her body.

She could feel his fingers skimming up her arms, knotting in her hair. She kissed him urgently, and she could taste the sadness on his lips: she wondered if hers tasted the same. His body was bearing down on hers and she arched into him, moaning. Almost frantically, she plucked his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and raked her nails across his back, clinging on to him tightly to save herself from drowning. Except she could quite happily die in his arms.

But as always with dreams, reality started to trickle in until the real world was back upon her in a flood, and she wasn't in bed with Alex. She wasn't anywhere with Alex, except his hands where still on her body, and his hot breath on her neck. For a moment, her mind was clouded with confusion, then 'Alex' moaned her name.

'Callie.'

Her brain cleared, and immediately she was struck with horror. She was still on the sofa with Mark, but he was as half asleep as she had been a moment ago, and he too was trying to chase ghosts from the past, although the past he was yearning for was rather more immediate.

She tried to wriggle out from underneath him, but he was a large man, and he had her pinned. 'Mark, wake up.'

He was kissing her throat, and for a fraction of a second, she was tempted to just go with it. She was still aroused from her dream about Alex, and God knows she could do with a release from the awful day she had endured, plus Mark was _good _at this. She might hate herself in the morning, but she'd sure as Hell have a good time tonight.

Then Callie's words echoed back at her – _'Now we have Sophia we're going to grow up and stop this whole sleeping with each other just because we can thing' – _and Addison knew she couldn't do it.

More forcefully, she pushed Mark in the chest, and spoke louder. '_Mark, _wake up.'

'Callie.' His voice was husky, full of desire. She had to stop him before this went too far.

'Mark. _Mark.' _She was almost shouting now. 'I'm not Callie. It's me, Addison. Wake up.'

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and recognition filtered in. He moved off her and sat up at the end of the couch, his head in his hands. She felt her entire body slacken in relief, and the true terribleness of their situation began to dawn on her. She began to cry.

'I'm not Callie,' she found herself repeating. 'I'm Addison. I'm not Callie. I'm not Callie.'

This time, it was Mark who held her until the tears dried.


	8. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I'm so sorry to keep you waiting for the next chapter – I hope very much you haven't all lost interest completely in this story. Turns out buying a house is not half as stressful or time consuming as getting internet connected to said house. Problem still not solved but I'm visiting my parents for the bank holiday weekend and therefore not only have the joy of my mother's cooking, but also access to the internet. I have another few chapters of this written, so once they are typed up and I have the internet again, hopefully you will not have to be as patient as you have waiting for this.

Disclaimer: As before

If it had been anyone but Mark, breakfast the following morning would have been painfully awkward, unendurable, but as he pushed a mug of strong, black coffee across the kitchen counter towards her, Addison realised that they knew each other too well for that. Or else, she reasoned, they had passed beyond the unendurable somewhere in the dark of the previous night, and were out the other side again.

She smiled, or at least, she hoped it came across as a smile, although it felt more like a grimace. 'I'm sorry about last night,' she said haltingly. 'I was… I didn't mean to make this even harder.'

He reached out, and closed his hand over hers for a moment. 'Addison, you're not making this harder, trust me. I don't know how I would have got through yesterday without you here. I… I'm lost without Callie, in a way I never expected, but you're helping me keep my head above water.'

'Really?' She wasn't sure she believed him. Her miniature breakdown in his arms on the sofa surely couldn't be termed as _helpful._

He looked at her deeply, and just as she was beginning to remember what those expressive, grey-blue eyes used to make her feel, Sophia banged her spoon noisily against her bowl and the moment was broken.

Thank God. She'd been back in Seattle less than twenty four hours and already she'd dreamt of Karev and got locked into some sort of soulful gazing contest with Mark. It didn't bode well for her mental wellbeing. It had driven her half mad last time.

To hide the flustered blush that she felt creeping up her neck, she turned her attention to Sophia. 'And what's the matter with you then? What's all this banging about?'

'Sophia hungry. Sophia want food.'

'You want your breakfast do you? Well, Daddy's in charge of getting the breakfast this morning, shall we ask him what you can have?'

She turned to Mark. 'Have you got something there for her?'

'Of course,' he replied, and she thought he sounded a little offended at the implication that he couldn't provide breakfast for his daughter. She watched as he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal which according to the branding seemed to be a special mix for young children, low in salt and sugar, or something like that. It looked horribly reminiscent of flakes of corrugated cardboard to Addison, who was a pancake girl, but she was impressed at Mark's having it.

'Here.' He passed her the box, then a carton of milk. 'Pour in plenty of milk. She likes soggy cereal.'

Addison did as she was told, and rolled her eyes. 'Crazy girl.' Soggy cereal was her idea of Hell.

'I know, but Callie –' Mark faltered, and Addison wondered how long it would be – months, years – before they could talk about her without stumbling, wincing, feeling a stab of pain like a knife in the side.

They were saved by the telephone. Mark was staring at Sophia, running his large hand gently through her black curls, just like her mother's. There was the hint of tears in his eyes, so Addison grabbed the phone herself.

'Hello?'

'Addie?'

'Morning Derek.' She could hear the note of surprise in his tone that she had answered the phone – and suspicion. It was barely seven in the morning, and to be answering someone else's phone that early, it went without saying that you had stayed the night. She knew Derek would be jumping to conclusions, but she supposed she couldn't blame him, even now. Some wounds went too deep to ever truly heal, she thought.

'I was just calling to see how Mark was today.'

'He's okay. Sort of.' She would have said more, but she didn't want to talk about Mark right in front of him, even if he was immersed in his own private world of grief.

'What about you?' Derek's voice softened, asif he remembered it was none of his businesswhether she had stayed over at Mark's or not.

'About the same. It was a pretty hard night.'

'You stayed there then?'

'Yes Derek, of course I stayed. Where else would I go?' she snapped.

'Okay, okay, no need to bite my head off. I'm just looking out for you, for both of you. You're my best friends.'

'Sorry, I'm just…'

'I know. And it's none of my business what you and Mark get up to, but just don't expect anything from him Addie. He was very much in love with Callie, and I don't think –'

'I can see that for myself Derek. And Mark and I are in the past anyway.' Then, so as not to sound too rude, she added, 'But thank you, I appreciate your concern.'

There was an awkward silence, and Addison glanced over at Mark to see if she could pass the phone over, but he was still lost in grief.

Thankfully, Derek changed the subject. 'I was going to try to catch up with you today anyway. I spoke to Richard after I left you yesterday, he says you can have your old job back.'

'He did?'

'Yeah. He says you can start whenever you're ready, there's no rush. And you can take as many or as few shifts as you like. He understands that it probably won't be until after… after the funeral.'

'Thank you Derek. Tell Richard I'll come in and talk to him about it.' She looked across at Mark again, who seemed as if he was coming out of his reverie. 'Look, I think Mark wants to talk, hang on a second.'

She put her hand over the receiver for a moment. 'Mark, it's Derek, do you want to…?'

Mark nodded, and she passed the phone over to him. Immediately, he went into the next room, and shut the door behind him.

She sat down at the table with Sophia, and smiled at the little girl. She had made one Hell of a mess with her cereal, scattering most of it over the expensive looking pale wood tabletop.

'Look at you,' she admonished lightly, and Sophia grinned. 'Look at what you've done. Do you think Daddy's going to be angry?'

Sophia looked up at her uncertainly. 'Daddy angry?'

Addison laughed softly in spite of her mood. 'No baby, I don't think Daddy would ever be angry with you.'

Her eyes lit up, and Addison marvelled at her intelligence. 'Daddy not angry?'

'No.'

'Sophia have a 'nana?'

Addison frowned her a moment, trying to work out what she meant, then followed the line along which her chubby little hand was pointing. On top of the fruit bowl lay a bunch of brightly yellow bananas. Well, the cereal hadn't been much of a success, so why not?

'Okay, you can have a banana. Can you say it properly Sophia? Ba – na – na.'

'Ba – na – na,' the child repeated in a sing song voice.

As Sophia smudged the fruit around her face, Addison sat back and watched. Her heart bled for Callie, and for all of them that had been left behind, a broken hearted Mark and this poor motherless little girl, but she couldn't believe what was happening to her. This time yesterday, she could say, hand on heart, that she had come to terms – or at least, as much as she was ever going to – that she was never going to have children. Now, she would lay her life down for Sophia without a second thought.

Is that was happened? Is that what motherhood was, this rush of love?

The door opened, and Mark came back in. He had been crying again.

'Are you all right?'

He nodded grimly. 'We were talking about arrangements. Religion wasn't really Calliie's scene, she wouldn't want a funeral in a church or anything like that. I… I thought maybe a few of us at the crematorium, then a memorial service outside somewhere, in a park, or…'

'That sounds perfect.' Addison felt tears prickling at her eyes at the thought of saying goodbye.

Mark noticed, and came over to them. He lifted Sophia out of her highchair, ignoring the milky-banana mess, and held her close to his chest. His other arm he wound around Addison's shoulders.

'I can't believe how hard this is,' he said. 'I don't think I've ever cried before. Now I can't stop. And I can't believe I didn't realise I was in love with her until now.'

'You've still got Sophia. While there is Sophia, there is Callie. She'd want us to _live _Mark. She'd want _you _to live.'

'I'm not sure I know how to, without her,' he said, and she wasn't sure how to answer, so she nestled into his strong chest, and waited.


	9. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Still no internet at the cottage I'm afraid, so this might be the last chapter you get for a while. Thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter, nice to know that you are all still out there and reading this. And I'm loving the speculation on where the story is going to go - if I'm honest, I have the whole thing all nicely planned out with a proper little plotline all written down, but the story isn't quite as sure that it wants to head in that direction, and is fighting me quite strongly at the moment, so we shall see...

Disclaimer: As before

Against her better judgement, Addison allowed herself to be persuaded to stay at Mark's apartment for a while, at least until after the funeral. He'd all but begged her, and she didn't have the heart to say no. She made up the bed in the spare room, and they agreed there would be no more nights on the sofa, just in case, but in truth, she hadn't taken a lot more persuasion that that. She didn't feel as if she could leave Mark in his present state of fragility, and she didn't think she could _bring _herself to leave Sophia.

Besides, it wasn't as if there was anywhere else she could go. She didn't have the strength to look for an apartment, and she could hardly go back to the Archfield what with Sophia.

She'd been at Mark's for ten days now, and she marvelled at the routine she had so quickly fallen into. Sophia usually woke at around six thirty, which after years of shift work and irregular hours didn't really bother her, and then Mark would make breakfast. After that, she would usually turn her attention to Sophia, delighting in getting to know the child. She tried to involve Mark as much as she could, but a lot of the time, he just sat and stared at his daughter with tears in his eyes.

She'd only left them twice the whole time. The first had been to see Richard. She agreed to start work on the Monday following the funeral, and she was surprised at the sense of trepidation she felt at the prospect of working in a busy hospital again after the last few years at Oceanside. Richard had tried to put her mind at rest, assuring her that the senior resident in neo-natal was excellent, and that she had nothing to worry about. For a fleeting moment, she had thought he was going to say more, but then his expression subtly changed, and he steered the conversation away towards more general talk of how Mark was coping and what sort of childcare arrangements they had planned for when they were both back at work.

The second time was much harder. Mark only had a limited amount of Sophia's things at his apartment, and after a week, it became apparent that someone was going to have to go around to Callie's to collect some more clothes. Addison knew there was no way in the world that Mark could be expected to go, so she had steeled herself, and armed with Callie's keys and a rough street map that Mark had drawn for her, she went round there herself.

It looked exactly how Callie must have left it. There was still a coffee cup in the sink – its half drunk contents beginning to grow a layer of greenish grey fuzz on the surface – and a broken child's toy, a little car, on the floor. It was too hard to deal with, though Addison knew someone, almost certainly her, would have to at some point.

Instead, she quickly went through the apartment, clearing out the fridge and emptying the bins, which, along with the coffee cup, she put down the garbage chute. Then she went into Sophia's room, purposefully ignoring the open door to the bedroom that was obviously Callie's, and gathered together a decent selection of clothes and other things that should keep them going to a while. She knew she'd have to face sorting through Callie's belongings at some point, but not yet, and not alone. She hoped that she would be able to persuade Miranda to help her – her mix of empathy and pragmatism was just the sort of attitude that would get her through it.

Then she stole out, locking the door again behind her. She had been barely able to speak with grief for the rest of the day.

The morning of the funeral dawned overcast and dull, typically Seattle; utterly unremarkable. They had decided, jointly, that it would be best if Sophia didn't go to the service, so Addison took her around to Miranda's house early, where Tuck's nanny was going to look after her for the day. Their regular childminder, Becky, wanted to go to the service herself, and Addison had been grateful when Miranda offered her own nanny's services.

A car was coming from the funeral home to pick them up at ten to take them to the crematorium, then on to the memorial service at a park near the hospital that Mark had organised. She wasn't sure what to expect – Mark had insisted on doing everything himself – but she hoped it would be more along the lines of a celebration than an outpouring of grief. Mark knew Callie better than anyone though, so she trusted him to do the right thing.

Addison dressed carefully in a dark charcoally grey suit, and debated with herself whether to add a touch of colour. She thought it might be something that Callie would like, but she didn't want to appear disrespectful if everyone else was in more muted, traditional tones. In the end, she shoved a scarlet scarf into her handbag to wear for the memorial service.

There was a knock on the door. 'Addie, are you ready?'

'Yes, I'm just coming.'

Mark was dressed in a black suit, with a black tie and a crisply pressed white shirt. His eyes were red rimmed, and desperately sad, but to Addison's relief he looked more in control of himself than in previous days. She knew he wouldn't forgive himself if he broke down in front of everyone.

She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. 'How are you?' she asked.

He took a deep breath, and let it out very slowly, his eyes flickering closed. 'Okay. I think. Part of me just wants to get today over with, but once it's over, that means all this is real, that she's really gone.'

'I know, and I _hate _the thought of saying goodbye to her Mark, I really do, but we all need to do this.'

'You're not going to say _move on, _are you?' he said, a faint air of disgust in his voice.

'Of course not,' she replied categorically. 'I'd never say that. But however we feel, we have to build a life for Sophia, one that somehow goes some way to making up for the fact that she isn't going to have her mother there to look after her. That's _our _responsibility Mark, you and me. The only thing we can do for Callie now is to raise her daughter into a young woman that would make her proud.'

It was the longest speech either of them had made since the tragedy, and Addison waited to see how he would react.

Eventually, she felt his fingers tighten around her own, and he nodded. 'You're right. We just have to get through today, then we can concentrate on Sophia.'

The service at the crematorium was short, no readings or hymns, just a standard service and a few kind and respectful words by the duty minister. The only people there were Addison and Mark, Derek and Meredith (who weren't there so much for Callie as for Mark) and Callie's parents, who had flown in from some exotic location where they had been on holiday.

Mr and Mrs Torres were polite enough in general, but they were clearly deeply grieving at the loss of their daughter, and made their feelings about the size of the funeral and the proposed informality of the memorial service perfectly clear. They were even more explicit with regards to their feelings about Mark. Cold bordering on hostile to him, Addison didn't speak to them much for his sake, but afterwards, while Mark was with Derek and Meredith, she gave them her cell phone number and promised they could have Sophia for the day tomorrow if they were staying.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she and Mark were ensconced back in the car and on their way to the park. The silence hanging in the air was oppressive, but she couldn't think of anything to say to break it. It was too hard.

Knuckles white and lips pressed tightly together, Mark had kept his composure even as the coffin, complete with the single white lily he had laid upon it, disappeared through the dark blue curtains. Addison hated the idea of cremation personally, and refused to think of what happened next, but Callie had always said, according to Mark, that she didn't want to be wormfood.

She found her own grief surprisingly easy to keep in check, although she still wasn't absolutely sure the enormity of it had actually hit her yet. Even though she knew herself to be desperately sad and sorry for the loss of her friend, someone so vibrant and full of life, but at the same time, she was sure that Callie wouldn't want her to grieve. She wouldn't appreciate weeping and mourning; she wanted Addison to take care of her daughter, so that was what she would do. It was as simple – and as difficult – as that.

It was Mark who spoke first. 'Do you think she…?' he asked haltingly.

'I think she wouldn't have minded too much what that part was like. It's the next bit that really matters.' She looked deeply at him, forcing him to meet her eyes. 'And I have every faith, _every faith, _that you will do her proud Mark.'

'All I can think is, I just _wish _I'd told her. I wish she knew how much I loved her.'

Addison saw the emotion and utter depth of feeling in his features. It was the same way Derek had looked, sitting on the hospital floor outside the room where they were working against the odds to bring Meredith back from the dead. It was the look of a man standing at the gates of Hell.

'She knew,' she found herself saying emphatically.

'How can you know that?' He looked anguished.

With a hollow emptiness, she realised that she had never been _truly _loved. Mark, perhaps, had been the closest, and it had been so long since Derek had even pretended to love her she could barely remember what it was like. Pete… it had been something, comfort perhaps, but not love. Briefly, she'd even thought that Karev… She almost laughed at her foolishness.

'Because you know when someone loves you like that,' she replied. 'You can _feel _it.'

'Do you think so?' He sounded uncertain, as if he didn't want to allow himself the hope of this being the case.

'Definitely. How do you think Callie felt about you?'

He looked thoughtful for a moment. 'Well, she never said, but…'

'But?' she prompted.

He nodded slowly, understanding. 'But she loved me. I could feel it.'

The car pulled to a halt, and Addison glanced out of the window, noticing that there already seemed to be quite a lot of people gathering in the park. Derek and Meredith were waiting at the gates for them.

The driver opened the car door for them, but before they got out, Addison looked across at Mark and felt a sudden urge to… Christ, she didn't even know. Comfort him? Try to alleviate a little of that gut wrenching sadness in his eyes? Help? She wasn't sure, but she leant towards him, and pressed her lips to his forehead in a gentle kiss.


	10. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I have the internet! And accordingly, you have a chapter. The world's most useless broadband provider has finally stepped up and switched on the internet in my cottage (it only took five weeks, so I shouldn't really complain) so I am back in action again. This chapter is another depressing one I am afraid, but I promise things will begin to brighten up a little after this. Thank you for the reviews, and for bearing with me during my absence. I have another chapter written that all I have to do is type up, so hopefully you won't have to wait too long for it. By the way, I just have to say (because I'm rather proud of it) I've now posted over half a million words on this site.

Disclaimer: As before. The poem is W.H. Auden's 'Stop all the clocks.'

During the journey from the crematorium, the drizzle had eased and the clouds had broken to allow the sun to shine thinly through. As she stepped out of the car, Addison looked around her, taking in the scene.

A short distance from the wrought iron entrance gates, lines of chairs had been set out, most of which were already full of people. At the front, there was a small raised platform covered in some black crepe like material with a large floral arrangement – white lilies again – on a stand. And, of course, the obligatory photograph.

Instead of the smiling headshot, semi formal and overly posed, Mark had found an old candid of her that he had had blown up. It must have been a couple of years old, because she had baby sick on the shoulder of the black sweater she was wearing. She was holding a glass of red wine in one hand and was mid-dance move; she was being spun around by a strong male arm, the owner of which was out of shot but that Addison knew to be Mark. Her hair was tangled and there were the dark shadows of sleepless nights under her eyes, but she looked truly beautiful. Her eyes were shining, and it was obvious she was laughing out loud; you could actually _see _the happiness emanating from her.

Seeing it made tears spring to her eyes. 'Oh Mark, what a perfect picture.'

She saw that he was looking at it too, lost in the memory of the moment it portrayed. He had stopped in his tracks, unable to move, and Addison was afraid he was going to crumble right there in the makeshift aisle.

She laid a hand on his arm. 'Mark, come in, let's sit down.'

He didn't seem to hear her and she looked helplessly at Derek. He put a firm hand on his friend's shoulder and steered him forward forcefully. 'Mark, Addie's right, we have to sit.'

They made their way to the front row of seats, and as they did so, Addison felt the burn of familiar eyes watching their progress. There were a lot of staff from the hospital there – she could see Richard, with Adele, sitting near the front, and Miranda. The interns were there too, although they weren't interns anymore she realised. They would be residents now, senior residents in fact; they must be in their, what, fourth year of residency. O'Malley in particular looked pale. He was as white as a sheet, and it took Addison a second to remember that Callie had been his wife.

She took a seat, on the end of the front row, next to Mark. Derek was on his other side, and Mark was grasping each of their hands tightly, his eyes still fixed on the photograph. Addison looked across at her lover, her husband, and wondered at it for a moment. After all these years and everything that had happened, here they were. Mark, Derek and Addison. Completely changed, but somehow still the same Mark, Derek and Addison. The friendship that had been lost somewhere along the way was as strong as ever now, and she wondered what might have happened if, in New York, they had all remembered they were friends above and beyond everything else.

Things might have been very different – less devastating – but at the same time, she couldn't imagine any other outcome. It would have been good not to have caused so much pain and destruction for them all, but even now she couldn't see how else it could have ended. She had been so miserable in her marriage; living with Derek then had been like some sort of half life. He was never there, never interested in how her day had been or in anything else really. Everything was so false, and she and Mark both felt the sting of Derek's neglect. The rest had been inevitable.

In a way, she was glad it happened. Not about _how _it happened perhaps, but something had to give, and they were all better people, had better lives now, even though Mark's had come crashing down around his ears.

The hospital chaplain had been asked to do the service. It was a different guy than when Addison had been there, but he had a kindly looking countenance, and she felt that he was probably a good choice. Hospital chaplains were good at offering support and spirituality often outside the boundaries of organised religion, which was just what they needed this afternoon.

Music began to softly filter out from some hidden speakers, and Addison let it wash over her. Everyone seemed to be seated now, and the chaplain began.

'May I welcome you all here today to commemorate the life of our friend, Callie Torres. She was tragically taken from us, and leaves behind her daughter, Sophia, and Sophia's father, Mark. Now, as I am sure you all now, Callie wasn't the type of person who would appreciate weeping and mourning at her funeral, and given that she was one of the most vibrant people, full of life, that I have ever met, I cannot blame her.

'No doubt she would wish for us to celebrate her life, and so in the midst of our grief, we must look within ourselves, and to each other, and find the strength to do just that. Now, I understand Mark wishes to say a few words.'

Mark nodded grimly, and rose to his feet, making his way to the platform. He didn't let go of either Addison or Derek's hands until he had to. Addison watched him as he took a couple of small speechcards out of his jacket pocket. His face was blanched white, the palest she had ever seen him, and she prayed to whoever the Hell there was up there to hear her, that Mark could be given the strength to do this.

He stood by the microphone, and she could see him take a deep breath. As he held up the speechcards, his hands were visibly shaking.

'Before I start, I'd just like to thank you all for coming here today. I'm touched that you all have turned out to pay tribute to – to Callie, and I'm grateful to you all.' He managed to look out over the crowd with a tight little smile, before glancing at the photograph and looking back down at his cards.

'Callie was one of the most incredible people I've ever met. Her ability to find the best in people – me in particular – never failed to amaze me. She had a thirst for life, and never let anything get her down for long. She was a loyal friend, and most of all for me, she has given me a beautiful, wonderful daughter and a glimpse at a life I never thought I'd have.

'That she was taken from us, from all of you her friends, and especially – and I know how selfish of me this is – from Sophia and me, leaves me… I've been trying for days to think of a word to fill that gap, and I've been trying everything. Bereft. Lost. Grief stricken. I'm all of those, and more. But I'm grateful too, for the time I had with her, and doubly grateful for Sophia, in whom Callie lives on.'

He turned to the last card, and for the first time during his speech, the emotion began to bubble up in his throat, and his voice faltered, began to wobble. Addison willed him on.

'Before I finish, I've… I've found a poem,' he choked out. 'It's not celebratory, and Callie would be mad at me for reading it out, but I… I hope she'll forgive me. If she was here now, then this is what I'd want to say to her.'

He closed his eyes, and began to recite a poem, falteringly. '_S-stop all the clocks, cut off the… the telephone._'

Then Mark stopped. The tears that he had been holding at bay began to spill down his cheeks, and his shoulders fell – he just seemed to crumple. He couldn't go on, and looked at helplessly at the crowd. His eyes settled first on Addison, then Derek. 'Help me,' he mouthed at them.

Addison looked across at Derek, and he got up. She was grateful to him; she didn't think she was strong enough to go up there herself. Wordlessly, Derek took the final speechcard out of Mark's hand, and in a strong, clear voice read out the poem that was written on it while Mark stood next to him, tears streaming uncontrollably.

'_Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,  
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum  
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come._

_Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead  
Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,  
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,  
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves._

_She was my North, my South, my East and West,  
My working week and my Sunday rest,  
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;  
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong._

_The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.  
For nothing now can ever come to any good.'_


	11. Chapter 10

Author's Note: See, I said you wouldn't have quite as long to wait for the next chapter. In fact, this is actually the second half of the last chapter, but it was getting rather long so I split it in half and embellished it a bit and here you go. Hope you enjoy, and please consider my usual read-and-review plea.

Disclaimer: As before

Derek paused upon finishing the poem and looked at Mark, clearly checking if he was okay. Seeing that he was still crying and that there was no way he was able to speak, he laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Mark would also like to say to you all that he's sorry for choosing something so depressing, and that he hopes that Cristina, as Callie's former flatmate, could now come up and say a few, more lighthearted words.'

Then he led his friend back to their seats, and as soon as Mark was sitting down again, Addison reached out and took his hand. He squeezed so tightly she lost feeling in her fingers, but she didn't care. She could feel the grief and sadness through his grasp.

She thought Cristina was a slightly strange choice, but as she began to speak, Addison realised she was a good one. As she completely lacked sentiment and emotion as part of her very nature, she was capable of delivering her speech with absolute composure, never letting grief get the better of her. She spoke brightly of a good friend, plenty of beer and laughter, and she lifted the mood with a couple of anecdotes that made everyone smile. Addison was impressed. For someone who she always remembered as being cold, Yang had done a brilliant job in assessing what everyone needed to hear.

The rest of the service passed in something of a blur. There was a hymn – not one she recognised, and she fudged her way through the tune until the last chorus, by which time she had just about got the hang of it. The chaplain gave a sermon, which was thankfully short, but still too long to hold her attention, and the service finished with the fabulously inappropriate 'I love to boogie' by T-Rex blaring out over the speakers. The order of service told them that it was one of Callie's favourite songs, and the one she had been dancing to in the photograph.

As people began to file away, Addison turned to the others in the front row. She realised she had no idea what, if anything had been planned for after the service. Christ knows she wasn't in the mood for polite small talk, and she knew Mark wouldn't be either, but a wake of some kind was normal. Besides, she'd quite like to be able to raise a glass to Callie. It would be more her sort of a farewell than anything else today.

Mark was sitting, head in his hands, and Derek was leaning forward with him, a supporting arm around his shoulders. The two of them seemed to be locked away in their own world. She didn't want to interrupt, and she wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear Derek talking to him very quietly, so she addressed her question to Meredith.

'Do you know what's happening next? Is there a wake, or…?'

Meredith nodded. 'Derek said there would be drinks laid on in the hospital, in one of the conference suites. Mark wanted to have it at Joe's, but he thought there might be too many people, so Derek squared it with Chief Webber to have something at the hospital instead.'

They both looked at the men. Mark didn't seem able to move yet, and Derek glanced up at them. He looked old, Addison thought. Old and tired. They all did. 'You two had better go on,' he said. 'We'll follow you in a minute.'

'Okay.' Meredith gave Mark a comforting pat on the back, then touched Derek's arm intimately by way of goodbye. 'We'll see you later.'

Addison wanted to say, do, something herself, but she didn't know how. Seeing Mark and Derek this close was wonderful, but it left her wary. She was afraid to do or say anything that might wreck it. She was still haunted by the sheer hatred and bitterness that her actions had caused before.

She was saved by Meredith, who offered her her arm, and Addison found herself taking it in gratitude. _This is weird, _she thought. _This is really weird. _She didn't ever think there would be a circumstance when she would be walking arm in arm with Meredith Grey.

'I'm sorry about Callie, Addison,' Meredith said as they walked across the park. 'I know you two were good friends.'

'I miss her.' Addison found herself being drawn into the conversation. 'I wish I'd called more often,' she said ruefully. 'Did you and her…?'

'Yeah, we got on well. I sort of got to know her when she was with George, and I always thought she was pretty awesome then. Then after she had Sophia, she and Mark were sort of… together but not together I guess. And now Mark and Derek are close again, we all spent a lot of time together. She was a fantastic person.'

'Yes, she was.' Addison managed a watery smile, which Meredith returned.

'So, what's been happening here since I've been gone? I never thought I'd miss it here, you know, I didn't exactly _enjoy _it here. But… I don't know. I have to come back because of Sophia, but I'm kind of glad that I do.'

'I thought you were happy in California?'

Addison shrugged. 'Happiness is as happiness does. Guess I love the drama here after all.'

Meredith laughed softly, though Addison could tell she felt a little awkward. Well, that made two of them.

'There hasn't been too much drama recently, actually. Not compared to usual anyway. Richard and Adele are back together, though I expect you know that. There's a new trauma attending, Hunt. He and Cristina are seeing each other. And Derek and I are, um…' Meredith was all but squirming as she finished her sentence, 'getting married soon.'

Addison smiled at her, trying to convey that she wasn't upset at the news. It made her feel… she wasn't sure. Sorry that she didn't have that for herself perhaps, but not upset that Derek had it with someone else. 'I know. Derek said you wanted a winter wedding.'

'I'm trying to persuade him to get married on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be a bit different, but he isn't sure.'

'Tell him if he doesn't let you have your own way, you'll ask his sisters to organise the wedding,' Addison said in a confidential tone. 'Trust me, it'll work. He'll agree like a shot.'

Meredith laughed out loud. 'Did you used to do that?' she asked, appalled.

'Only when I _really _wanted something.'

They were standing outside the hospital now, and Addison looked up at it. It looked the same as it always had. All glass and concrete and drama. More had happened in her life in this building than pretty much anywhere else. New York paled in comparison, really. She took a deep breath, summoned her courage, and was about to go in, but Meredith looked as if she wanted to say something else.

Addison looked at her questioningly.

'This is weird, isn't it?' Meredith said.

Addison nodded, and laughed wryly. 'Yeah, this is pretty weird.'

'It's… okay though, isn't it?'

Addison thought about it for a moment, let the idea of _being friends with Meredith Grey _roll around in her head. Derek and Mark were clearly as close as they had ever been, and if she was going to be part of Sophia's life, she would be part of Mark's, and therefore of Derek's as well. Which meant being friends with Meredith Grey, whether she liked it or not. In fact, the prospect didn't seem quite as horrific as she'd once thought it might have been. Like living in Seattle.

She smiled. 'Yes, it's okay.'


	12. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Well, that's all the funeral business over and done with now. I can't guarantee the story will be full of sweetness and light and puppy dogs from now on, but it shouldn't be quite so depressing at any rate. I'm kind of looking forward to getting the plot moving a little – I really must learn to write slightly less lengthy introductions. And author's notes, come to that. So on with the story… Oh, and by the way, sorry this chapter ends a little abruptly, it's another very long chapter split in half, and the next bit is nearly finished so hopefully not too long a wait for you for the next update.

Disclaimer: As before. The song is The Slip's Life in Disguise, which I feel I may be bordering on the overusing of now, so this is the last time, I promise.

It was much later in the evening that Addison found herself sitting, alone, at the Emerald City Bar with aching feet and a tumbler of neat bourbon sitting on the bar in front of her. It was quiet in there, which was something of a relief; she didn't think she could cope with people right now.

The wake had been bearable enough, but there was a whirlwind of old faces that were clamouring to talk to her which had left her feeling drained. Mark had been close to breaking down, not able to cope with everyone's sympathy and kindly meant enquiries so Derek took him to collect Sophia and go home almost as soon as they arrived, which left Addison feeling a little… exposed. Her emotions were still raw from saying goodbye to Callie, and although she managed to get away with talking mainly to Miranda, and Richard and Adele, she wished she could escape.

Eventually, people began to drift away and the ordeal came to an end. Miranda smiled at her, sensing her relief. 'I have to get back to work,' she said. 'Do you want me to call you a cab home?'

Addison shook her head, the thought of going back to Mark's white, cold apartment giving the action an unnecessary vehemence. 'No. I know it's selfish of me, but I just need a little space. I've been so conscious of Mark's grief that I haven't really taken the time myself to…'

'I understand. Call me if you need anything.'

Addison had wandered aimlessly after that, staying as far away from people and familiar faces as she could. She went for a ride on a ferryboat, standing on the deck and letting the wind buffet her, sending her hair streaming out behind. It had soothed her a little, and she whispered a goodbye to her friend into the wind, letting her words blow out towards the ocean.

As she looked out over the water, she thought about the mess she had made of her life. Derek and Mark were her family, the only ones she had ever chosen for herself, and she had hurt them both so badly. The great Addison Forbes Montgomery, neo-natal surgeon extraordinaire, wife, lover, adulteress.

She had left Seattle, given up, only when things were so bad she just couldn't bear them anymore. Derek, Mark, Alex. Living in fear of bumping into one of them in the corridor the whole time. She could barely breathe. And now she was back. It was either an excellent idea, or a terrible one, but either way, she was committed now. The enormity of it all sank in as the city passed her by.

After that, she had lost track of time, finding herself in streets she had never seen before. Eventually finding herself outside the hospital again, she checked her watch and saw that it was nearly eight o'clock. Christ, where the Hell had she been?

She called Mark to let him know where she was, but Derek answered. He said that Mark and Sophia were both asleep, and that he didn't mind staying until she got back. She took him up on his offer gratefully. She knew it made her a bad person, but she couldn't face Mark. He was so… fragile, stricken today and she just didn't know what to say to him. She knew, rationally, that being there was all she could do and all he needed from her right now, but those great pained silences haunted her and she didn't know how to fill them. It hurt so much to glance up from the newspaper or from the meal they were forcing over the lumps in their throats to see Mark with tears running down his face. Just like that. She needed to be away for a tiny bit longer.

So she had crossed the street to the Emerald City Bar and pushed the door open. It was exactly how she remembered it. How many sorrows had she drowned in this place? And now she was here again.

Joe looked up, and nodded in greeting. 'Doctor Montgomery.'

'Addison, Joe, please. How are you?'

'Not so bad. Sad day today; I thought it was a lovely service though, Doctor Sloan did a really good job organising it all. I'm sure Doctor Torres would have liked it.'

'Thank you Joe,' she smiled wanly.

'How's the little girl?'

'She's doing better than we are. She knows something is different but she doesn't really understand. Sometimes she cries for Callie, which is just…' Addison blinked away tears.

Joe gave her a sympathetic look. 'What can I get you?'

'Bourbon please Joe. I feel like I need one.'

He poured her the drink then left her alone to drink it in peace, sensing her need to be alone. A couple of attendings from paediatrics that she vaguely remembered came in and spoke to her briefly, but thankfully they didn't stay for long and she soon regained her solitude.

She drank the bourbon slowly, letting its effects filter through her body. Gradually, she became aware of the music on the jukebox in the background, and a sense of déjà vu came over her as she listened.

_Well the world is only a stage  
__And I'm just a man  
__With a sound caught in his throat  
__And a pick in his hand_

_But when the song comes tumbling out you understand  
__There's no great demand  
__Well it's there under your breath, behind your eyes  
__And you don't have to say nothing cause I realise  
__That everything somehow in some way eventually dies  
__It's life in disguise_

_It's your room and your board and your fireside  
__It's a shell that's been washed by a million tides  
__And if you're there you can see how bright it shines_

_When there's nobody left in your head, in your heart  
__When the whole world has packed up in shadows and left you for dead  
__When you can't fake a smile and you just can't get out of your bed_

_When the people you led turn to you looking so hungry and bare  
__And you were the one that had brought them there  
__And all you can do is just stare and your hands and whisper my name…_

She wasn't surprised when the door opened and a weary figure approached the bar. He was wearing a dark suit and a black tie from the memorial service. Wordlessly, Joe slid a bottle of beer across to him.

'Hey,' she said, and he turned his head at the sound, just as he had before. And as he had in the dream.

He smiled, that small smile that was so much more genuine than a wide grin would have been. 'Addison.' He moved towards her and slid onto the stool next to her.

'I'm so sorry about Callie,' he said, and she thought she saw his eyes flicker to her hand cradling the glass of bourbon, as if he was going to touch it. Then he was looking directly into her eyes again a fraction of a second later and she was sure she imagined it.

'Thank you Alex. I didn't see you at the wake.'

'No, I made it to the memorial, but I was on shift so I had to get straight back to work.'

'I see.'

An awkward silence fell, and Addison couldn't help but let snippets of the dream play through her mind. The way his hands skimmed her skin, and how he breathed her name in her ear, with such reverence that it sounded like a holy sacrament. She tried to take her mind off it by finishing her drink.

Alex noticed, and indicated to her glass. 'Do you want another?'

'Um, sure. Thanks. '

'So,' he said, when she was nursing another bourbon, 'I hear you're going to be sticking around.'

'Yes. I have joint custody of Sophia, and she's too young to be travelling between here and L.A. the whole time, so there's no other option really.' She realised she sounded somewhat reluctant, so she tried to rectify it. 'Not that I mind. I mean, I'm actually happy to be back, well, not happy about Callie obviously, but…' She trailed off, hearing her voice switch into overdrive. How did he do that? No man had made her this nervous since… ever.

He rescued her. 'It's okay. I know what you're trying to say. California wasn't for you then?'

'It was, such as it is,' she said. 'The people were nice and the weather was always fantastic, but…' She shrugged. 'I've always believed home is your people; that's why I came to Seattle in the first place. I don't have a lot of people, only Derek and Mark really, and,' she chuckled, 'I guess I should stop trying to fight it. I'm just destined to live in the rainiest city in America.'

Alex laughed. 'Plus there's Sophia,' he added.

She smiled widely. 'Exactly. I'm here for Sophia.'

.


	13. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Okay, okay, sorry for the long delay in getting this posted, particularly as it has been sitting on my laptop written for over a week. The only excuse I have to plead is my insanely busy life. This chapter is dedicated to Darling Pretty, partly because her message actually reminded me that I had this ready and waiting to post, and also to goad her into reviewing!

Disclaimer: As before

Alex saw her eyes shine as she talked about the little girl. She looked so animated. He had watched her with so many babies when he had worked with her, and he remembered thinking, even then, even when he'd hated her, that she'd be a brilliant mother. If he thought about it, he'd have expected her to have children by now really, he couldn't understand why she hadn't. Though she and Sloan were bound to get together now, he mused, once the spectre of Callie began to fade. It was inevitable.

He wondered idly if anyone at the hospital was running a book on it – he might as well make a few bucks out of it. God knew he wouldn't get any other pleasure of out seeing her with Sloan.

He had spent most of the memorial service this afternoon furtively watching her. She had looked sad, sitting there on the front row of mourners, but he had forgotten how beautiful she was. She was wearing a smart, dark suit and a flash of a red scarf the same colour as her hair. The jacket was now slung over a neighbouring stool and the pencil skirt was riding up her thigh a little as she was perched on her seat. He was doing his best not to look at her skin.

He couldn't help but notice the obvious closeness between her, Sloan and Shepherd at the funeral. They were grasping each other as if they were afraid they would drown if they let go, and he saw the way they all looked at each other. Even Meredith looked like a spare wheel. How the Hell had he ever thought he could come between that, even when it was at its worst? You couldn't just forget history.

Having said that though, he and Izzie had eventually come to the decision to forget about theirs, or at least, consign it to the past. After the Ava/Rebecca debacle, he had needed her so much, and his heart sang when she was there for him. Then in the excitement of being back together with her again, he had not seen – or refused to see – that her heart was not truly in it. Perhaps she was ready to move on from Denny, to fall in love again, but Alex knew her well enough to realise that it could never be with him.

Eventually, he had plucked up the courage and raised it with her, knowing that he wasn't going to like the answer, and was met with a vehement denial. _How could you say that, _she'd sobbed indignantly. _I love you Alex, _she said, over and over again. He could tell she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

The next morning, waking up to find an empty space in the bed next to him, he'd gone downstairs to be greeted by a kitchen full of freshly baked muffins, and a tearful Izzie, telling him that she was sorry, but he was right. Every time she looked at him, it reminded her of before, and Denny came flooding back.

He was upset, devastated actually, even more than he had expected to be, but it was as well he knew. He loved Izzie, but he didn't want to be with someone who didn't love him. That wasn't what he saw for himself, at some hazily distant point in the future that he couldn't quite visualise, so he let her go.

That had been four months ago now, and they were just coming out of the post break-up stage of chronic awkwardness and tiptoeing around each other. Living in the same house as her had been absolute Hell, but he had been too lazy to find somewhere else. Besides, Meredith's house was convenient for work, and a damn sight nicer than anything he would be able to afford on his own, so he'd put up with it, convincing himself that the daily torture of seeing Izzie was character building. Or something.

It was gradually getting better though. They were even, almost, sort of friends again. He wasn't quite beyond hope that one day she'd wake up and open her eyes and see him, love him, but he wasn't going to be holding out for it. He'd learnt the hard way to protect himself from disappointment a long time ago.

He realised he had been quiet for too long and Addison was looking at him enquiringly, with those wide blue eyes. He could see that she had been crying earlier, but she seemed composed now.

'How come you're here on your own?' he asked to fill the silence.

'I needed to get away for a bit,' she said. 'Mark's grief is just so heartbreaking that I can barely watch. Derek's with him, so I…'

'If you'd rather be alone?' he offered, it occurring to him for the first time that perhaps she wished he wasn't there. Those last few months before she'd left, he'd gotten so used to their easy companionship, but that was years ago. He remembered the moments they had shared, quiet and tender, some of them. Angry. Passionate. And that kiss, right here, right where they were sitting now. Whatever that spark had been between them, it had been different than what he had with Izzie. Fresh. Different. Intensely private, something apart from the daily rumour mill of Seattle Grace. Maybe that was why it had appealed.

'No,' she replied. 'Don't go on my account. Besides, I could do with some company.'

They drank companionably for a while longer, until Addison felt a little hazy around the edges. They chatted easily enough, but it was mainly small talk, meaningless. She found that she was doing most of the talking, responding to his questions about the Oceanside Wellness Center, her job and whether she missed doing surgery full time, her beautiful house on the beach; all about her life in California. She couldn't tell whether he was genuinely interested or was trying to parry her attempts to question him instead.

It was late when the door to the bar opened, and Meredith came in, still in her scrubs.

'Hey,' she came straight over to them. 'Addison, Derek said you might be here. I thought I'd pop in to see if you wanted a lift.'

'Oh, that's kind of you. I…' Some stupid girlish part of her was tempted to say no. No doubt Meredith would be giving Alex a lift as well, and somehow she didn't want him to know she was staying with Mark, even though it was completely innocent. But, she reasoned, he'd probably come to that conclusion all by himself already, and that was if the Seattle Grace rumour mill hadn't got a hold of it.

She forced a smile, trying not to think what Alex must be thinking of her. 'Thanks, that would be great if you're sure you don't mind.'

As she went to get up, she suddenly realised that she and Alex were sitting a lot closer than she had thought. His hand, though still not touching hers, was so close that she could feel the heat of his skin. She could tell from the way Meredith was studiously not looking that she had noticed. And her head was swimming from the alcohol. Christ, she had to get out of here while she still had two legs to carry her.

'It's not a problem. Mark's place is only a few blocks from us anyway.'

Addison felt Alex's eyes boring into her, but she didn't have the courage to meet them and kept her gaze fixed firmly on Meredith.

'Alex, are you coming?' Meredith asked.

He shook his head, still looking at Addison. 'No, I'll stay here for a while longer. I'll see you at home later.' He'd heard she was staying with Sloan, but he realised now that he had been hoping it was only a rumour spread by overactive gossips. He hadn't expected to feel this jealous either.

Meredith looked at Alex, then Addison, and back to Alex again, with slightly narrowed eyes that had a flicker of suspicion dancing in them.

'Okay,' she said in a tone that left Alex in no doubt that he was going to get the Spanish Inquisition later. He sat in silence, aware that his face had rearranged itself into a somewhat sulky expression, although he wasn't sure if it was at Meredith for interrupting the evening, or the idea of Addison going home to Mark Sloan. Probably both.

Addison had her coat on now, and she and Meredith were saying goodnight to Joe. He was pretty sure they had already said goodbye to him as well, but he hadn't been listening. They began to head towards the door.

Fuck it. If Meredith was going to give him a grilling, he might as well make sure it was over something worthwhile.

'Addison,' he called out, and she spun around. He flashed her his most charming smile. 'I'm really glad you're back.'

And he was.


	14. Chapter 13

Author's Note: I've realised that I've never really written a story on here, for either Grey's or ER, that deals with the whole cast as an ensemble, I've only ever focused on a couple, with others making cameos. This is a whole different kettle of fish and I'm beginning to wonder what I've taken on! Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter, you restored my faith a little that there are still people out there reading this.

Disclaimer: As before.

It was late by the time Meredith got home, and Derek was half asleep in the seat next to her. She nudged him gently, then, when that had no effect, she elbowed him sharply.

'Huh?' He woke with a start.

'Come on, wake up. We're home.' Her face was the picture of innocence, and she pretended not to notice his hand on his ribs. She undid his seatbelt, and kissed him on the cheek before getting out of the car.

They still lived in her mother's house, although they were hoping the new house would be finished, or at least ready to move into, before the wedding. As soon as they were inside the front door, Derek kissed her goodnight and stumbled up the stairs to bed. He'd had a long day – looking after Mark and getting him through the funeral must have been exhausting. She felt pretty drained herself.

There was a light on in the kitchen, so she went on through, hoping it was Alex home from Joe's. Things had been as awkward as Hell with Alex and Izzie breaking up, but the last few weeks, she'd noticed the tension beginning to ease, though Alex had still been quieter than usual, and generally down. He'd been different tonight though. Seeing him with Addison, Meredith thought he looked as if he had a bit of his old spark back. She wasn't all that surprised: she had her suspicions about them years ago, before Addison had left, though she'd never managed to get Alex to admit to anything.

He was already sitting at the table, waiting for her. There was a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses out ready.

'Go on then,' Alex said, without looking up at her, still standing in the doorway. 'I know you want to.'

She sat down opposite him, and poured them each a drink. 'Well, what was that?' she asked. 'It looked kind of cosy to me.'

'It wasn't anything Meredith. She was already there when I got there; it would have been rude not to have a drink with her.'

'Hm.' Meredith pursed her lips sceptically. 'And what about when we left? _I'm glad you're back. _And I know you Alex Karev, you don't break out that smile for just anyone. It's ben a while since I've seen it.'

'Well, I am glad she's back,' he defended himself. 'I need a decent teacher again. Doctor Coleman is useless, and Addison is the best neo-natal surgeon in the country. I've got a better chance of making something of myself working under Addison than anyone else.'

'And that's the only reason you want her back, right? Work?'

Alex didn't answer. He knocked back his shot of tequila and poured himself another. Meredith drank hers too, but grimaced. She was getting too old for tequila, or perhaps she just wasn't screwed up enough to truly appreciate its anaesthetic effects anymore.

He had a forbidding expression, but she figured she'd known him long enough to push him a little. 'Alex, what happened between you and Addison? Last time I mean. I know there was something between you.'

Alex sighed wearily, and looked down at him hands for a long time before he answered. 'It was nothing really, to start with. I damn well hated her in the beginning, keeping me captive on gynae when I would rather have been doing anything – including a lifetime of scut – than that. But then I got to know her a bit, I guess. She honestly is a brilliant teacher, ten times better than any of the other attendings, including Derek, no offence.'

She smiled. 'None taken. He is a neurosurgeon after all, just because he and I happen to think he's the centre of the universe, none of the rest of you should be under an obligation to agree.'

He laughed, and continued. 'The more time I spent with her, the more I realised how hard a time she was having here. Her only real friend was Callie. I was only kind to her because Derek and Sloan were so nasty, but I used to love seeing her smile. She looked so different when she did.'

'Then?' Meredith prompted.

'We kissed at Joe's, the night George's dad died, right where we were sitting this evening. Then I pushed her away. Then we were okay again. Then we had a huge row, and I screwed her in a supply cupboard. Then she ran off to California.'

'Ran off?' Meredith raised an eyebrow, trying not to look shocked at Alex's story. She couldn't believe so much had happened and she'd never known. She was also impressed at Alex's discretion. How such a snippet as Satan screwing her intern had never reached the Seattle Grace rumour mill was nothing short of a miracle.

'Okay, I drove her away, if you're going to be pedantic about it. I was… not nice.'

'_You're _the reason she left?'

'Well, I'm not sure I can take the entire credit for it. The ex husband and ex lover trying to cut her off at the knees every time she opened her mouth probably didn't help.'

'All right, easy now. Don't forget, Derek is my fiancé. She did sleep with his best friend.' Even though she chastised Alex, she knew Derek had been pretty cruel to Addison. She remembered the time she found her crying in a supply closet. Though it was all in the past now. She'd seen the three of them holding hands at the memorial service, and she had felt a flicker of jealousy, even though she knew there was no need. It was just _such _a strong friendship, and she knew she would never be totally included in that.

'I know, but there's two sides to every story, and none of us ever heard Addison's, that's all I'm saying.'

'Okay,' Meredith backed down. 'So what now? What was this evening all about?'

'I thought I'd go for a beer or two after my shift, and she was already in there – no illicit meeting, I swear. Then we were just talking.'

'What was that smile about? And don't give me some I'm glad she's my attending bullshit.'

'It was an impulse. I… I don't know how I feel about me and Izzie, but I know that, apart from Izzie, Addison's the only woman that I've ever…'

Meredith noticed that he didn't mention Ava, but they tended to gloss over that these days.

'Not that it matters,' he continued. 'She'll be with Sloan before long.'

Meredith desperately wanted to contradict him, give him some hope, but she didn't. In truth, she thought he was probably right. Addison and Mark was virtually inevitable now, Derek had said that he thought so too. It would be for the best really, for everyone. Except Alex.

She gave him a pained look.

He stood up. 'Your silence says it all, Meredith. You and Derek have spoken about it, haven't you?'

She nodded.

He made his way towards the door, suddenly looking tired. 'Will you do me a favour?' he asked over his shoulder.

'Of course.'

'Don't tell anyone about this. I'm having trouble enough getting over Izzie, I don't need to make this any harder for myself.'

'If you need to talk Alex, I'm here. Anytime.'

He have her a sad little smile, miles away from the way he'd looked at Addison earlier. 'Thanks Meredith. Goodnight.'

She waited until she heard him turn the bathroom light off and shut his bedroom door, then she put the tequila bottle back into the cupboard and went upstairs herself. She quickly shucked off her clothes and pulled on a pair of old pajamas. She slipped into bed next to Derek.

'Mm,' he said sleepily, winding an arm around her waist and drawing her into him. 'Where were you?'

'Talking to Alex.'

'Is he okay?'

'He's fine.'

Still not opening her eyes, Derek nuzzled her neck, and trailed his lips across her skin until they met hers in a lazy kiss.

'No he isn't. You've been drinking tequila,' Derek said when they broke apart for air.

'It's been a long day,' Meredith replied, hoping that would be enough to cover pretty much anything.

'Yes, it has.' He hugged her tightly, and after a few minutes, she realised he had fallen asleep.


	15. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Hmm, not entirely happy with this chapter, it's very much a filler but I needed something to get me from the funeral part of the story onto the next part. Consider this marking the end of the first Act – now the drama can really begin. Once again and as always, thank you for all your kind reviews.

Disclaimer: As before

Addison put the last of the plates back in the cupboard, deliberately knocking them against the shelf so they made a loud clatter, and slammed the door vigorously. 'Look, Mark, I know you say you want to be busy, that work will take your mind off everything, but do you really think it's a good idea going back this soon?'

He carefully folded the tea towel and laid it on top of the rarely used oven, then turned back to look at her. 'Yes.'

His calmness was driving her crazy. They had been arguing like this for nearly two hours now, and she was at the end of her tether. She couldn't scream at him, for fear of waking Sophia, but she wished she could. 'Yes? Is that all you've got to say?'

'Yes.'

Addison threw her hands in the air and groaned in frustration. She'd forgotten how infuriating arguing with Mark was; he made her want to tear her hair out. He just stonewalled everything you said until you lost the capability of presenting your point rationally. Plus it always required an actual, conscious effort to neither kiss him or slap him.

She was definitely closer to slapping him tonight though.

It was Sunday evening and she had her first shift back at Seattle Grace in the morning. She felt a vague sense of trepidation at working in a busy hospital again, but other than that, she was looking forward to it. She needed to be out of these four walls. She needed to feel normal again.

But Mark. Over dinner (well, takeout – they were neither of them any sort of a cook) he had announced that he also intended to return to work tomorrow. She had been trying to dissuade him ever since. It had only been three days since the funeral, three days since he had been so grief stricken he could no longer speak – there was no way he was ready to be plunged back into the cut and thrust of the OR. She was still haunted by his fragility.

But clearly there was no telling him that. She had thought about ringing Derek or even Richard to let them add their voices of reason to her cause, but he told her, a trifle smugly she thought, that they had already approved the idea, Richard on the condition that he didn't take on too much and delegated the majority of the donkey work to a resident, and wasn't to be too stubborn to go home if he needed to.

In order to try to get through to him, she forced her exasperation aside, and lowered, softened, her voice. 'I know that you feel ready to get back to it all, but are you sure you don't need any more time? Don't you think it would be better if you just took it easy for a little while longer? Why don't you take another week or two, to just… I don't know… come to terms with it all.'

Her more caring tone obviously got through to him. Instead of arguing again, he smiled sadly, and reached across the kitchen counter to squeeze her hand. 'Addison, I know you're trying to do what you think is best for me, but I need to get some sort of normality in my life again.'

'But –'

'Work is normal,' he cut across her with a shrug.

'But –' she tried again. She didn't know why he was so determined. He wasn't really the workaholic type. Sure, he enjoyed his job, got a kick out of it, but in the old days, back in New York, he'd never worked as many hours as she and Derek did. In fact, he had said once one of the reasons he had gone into Plastics was that it still enabled him to have some semblance of a life.

'The next thing you'll say is that I should be staying here with Sophia for a while.'

'No,' she protested. 'I'd never use emotional blackmail like that. I'm just shocked, that's all. I barely feel ready to cope with work – I can't imagine that you would be able to,' she said frankly.

'Look, Addie, I don't really know how to explain it. Unless you have been in this position, you couldn't possibly understand.'

Addison thought back to when Derek had left, without a word of where he was going. That had been a bereavement, of sorts. It had certainly felt like one at the time, like her soul had been cut in half.

'Try me,' she said.

'Callie's not coming back. I loved her, so much goddammit, but I am never going to get the chance to live the life with her I want, so I'm going to have to live a different one instead. I hate that I am, but I don't have a choice. And if I don't have a choice, then I might as well get on with it.'

Addison felt herself tear up at the starkness of his words. She still couldn't quite… A life without Callie.

He went on. 'I haven't got a clue what I want that life to be, or where to start with it. But you were right, the other day, when you said I had to keep on living for Sophia. I'm her father, and I want…' He faltered, and for a moment she thought he was going to break down, but there was a strength in him since the funeral that there hadn't been before. There would be no more tears, no more grief. 'I need to go to work Addison.'

She managed a watery smile that she hoped conveyed her understanding. 'Just don't go dyeing your hair blond or anything.'

He pulled a mock-offended face. 'You don't think I'd look good blond?'

'I mean, it doesn't help.'

'Actually, I liked your blond phase.'

'My blond phase was _dreadful _Mark. It was based on –'

'I know what it was based on. I'm just saying, I liked it. You _needed _me then.'

Can of worms. Pandora's Box. She didn't think she had the strength to go over all this now, and she was pretty sure Mark didn't either. And she wasn't sure it mattered any more anyway. It felt like a million years ago; so much had happened.

'Don't Mark. Not tonight.'

'No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm just so glad you're here. If it wasn't for you, I don't know if I'd be able to go back ever, and I'm not good at… I'm trying to say thank you.'

'You don't have to.'

'I know.'

'There's a long way to go yet.'

'I know that too.' He held out his arms, and hugged her to him tightly.

_Now, an author's note at the end of the chapter as well, I hear you ask. I would like to sound you out for an idea that I have for a new story. One comment that has struck me in the reviews you have generously left me on this story is that there is a general sense of chagrin at my killing off Callie. Well, the new story would see Callie as one of the main characters, along with Alex, although not romantically attached to each other. I hate the idea of a story resting solely on its pairings, but for those who are curious I am willing to divulge details via a PM. It would be a crossover story (the first I have ever attempted) set in an AU Season 5 Greys/Season 15 ER, and a general epic drama style story (she says ambitiously). I received quite a few positive comments when I floated the idea to my ER readers, and I would love to know what you guys think of it also. Would you give it a read? Or is it a bit too much? I just think the two shows are _made _for a crossover, and my muses are practically begging me to let them loose with it. _


	16. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Well, you can be quite forgiven for thinking I had disappeared off the face of the earth, but in fact I haven't (although at various points over the last month I've wished I was able to). I've been preparing my submissions for my exams to get my Chartered status and a few more letters to go after my name, so things have been a tad stressful. I have also posted the first chapter – a bit of a taster – of my ER/Grey's crossover story. It's called _We die on the march _and can be found either in the Grey's crossover section or on my profile. Not a lot of Grey's action in the first chapter, but the second one is up now and it's pure, unadulterated Addex (not every chapter will be, but that one most definitely is). I'd love to know what you think of it, and of this of course. As for this chapter, I was intending to fast forward straight to the hospital, but BabyWonder7 happened to remark on the lack of Sophia in recent chapters, and I decided that it was an exceedingly valid point, so here you go.

Disclaimer: As before

Addison was sitting on the floor of the living room in a smart black Chanel suit (overkill; she would end up changing into scrubs within the first hour, but she needed it – and the four inch Christian Louboutin heels for confidence) surprising herself by not caring that Sophia was waving a finger of buttered toast _very _close to her skirt, and that her jacket sleeve was already more than a little adorned with crumbs.

She had to leave for work about five minutes ago, but she was finding it virtually impossible to tear herself away from Sophia. _Like any mother about to leave her child for the first time, _she supposed. It wasn't a feeling she had ever thought she would experience.

'Now then,' she said, taking the toast out of the girl's chubby little hand, laying it to one side, then pulling her onto her lap, 'you're going to be a good girl today for Becky, aren't you?'

Sophia nodded seriously, but Mark, leaning lazily against the doorframe and watching the scene, could see a glint of mischief alight in his daughter's dark eyes. She always made him and Callie feel guilty when they left her, and invariably played the nanny up when she'd been with her parents for more than a few days consecutively. He didn't allow himself consider the changed nature of the word 'parents.'

'If you're _very_ good, she says she'll take you to the park and feed the ducks.'

'_You _take me to see ducks?' she asked, all wide eyed and butter wouldn't melt.

'No baby, I'm sorry but I can't take you. Daddy and I have to go to work today. We have to go to the hospital and make people better.'

'Mummy take me to see ducks?' Her voice was sort of hopeful, with an appealingly innocent tone, but Mark knew she was saying it to get a reaction. He was fairly sure she didn't completely understand what had happened, but she had already stopped asking for her mother unless she was extremely distressed over something. Hearing her ask for Callie like that now, so casually, was as if someone had stuck a knife into his side, and he almost reeled from the imaginary blow, but he steeled himself to be strong.

Addison bit her lip, and saw Mark's shoulders slump out of the corner of her eye. 'No Sophia, Mummy can't take you either. Becky's going to take you.'

'Don't like silly Becky. Want _you_,' she said petulantly, pulling a pout that could be recognised anywhere as pure Sloan.

'I'm sorry sweetie, but I can't…'

Her voice trailed off, and she looked up at Mark with an unspoken question in her eyes. He shook his head firmly. 'She's playing you Addie.'

'But…' she appealed.

'No. She does this whenever we've been home with her for a few days. You have to learn to let go.' His tone was a little unsympathetic, but it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to crumble to his daughter's request, and stay holed up here, in a grief filled bubble, forever.

Very reluctantly, Addison gave Sophia a peck on the cheek and lifted her from her lap, and placed her back on the floor. She knew Mark was right. Being a mother was about laying down boundaries as well, not just indulging Sophia's every little whim. Callie wouldn't want her daughter to be raised by that.

Mark stepped over and gave her his hand, hauling her to her feet. 'I know it's hard,' he said.

'Does it get easier?'

'Nope. Never,' he replied grimly. 'But you get used to it. And it makes every moment that you do have with her so goddamn precious that you appreciate it even more.'

Becky came through from the kitchen with a cup of juice for Sophia, which the girl padded over to take from her without a sign of rancour. 'She'll be fine Ms Montgomery. Don't worry yourself. And if you want to call me, then do, any time.'

Addison smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry. I know she'll be fine. I'm just… new to this, I guess.'

'I understand. Now, off you go, else you'll be late for work. Sophia,' she knelt down and beckoned her, 'come and say bye.'

Sophia skipped back across the room, and Mark swept her up into his arms. 'Bye bye baby girl.' He kissed her. 'See you this evening.'

'Bye bye Daddy. Bye bye Addie,' she said in her sing song little voice.

They walked quickly down to the car, determined not to look back. Addison let her head fall back against the headrest of the car seat, and groaned. 'Great start to the day.'

Mark glanced sideways at her, his gaze inscrutable and his tone bordering on the sarcastic. 'Why, did you think it was going to be a good one?'

'No,' she admitted.

'Well then.'

They fell into a silence which wasn't quite cold, but was distinctly awkward at the least. She wanted to say something to help, or for him to say something to help her, but she knew there were no words. Today was going to be hard, and horrible, and all she could do was get on with it. Tough it out.

And even though the desire hadn't crossed her mind in years, maybe sneak out at lunchtime for a cigarette if it was _really _bad.

She could see that Mark was gripping the steering wheel too tightly, his knuckles white and his gaze fixed on the stream of traffic ahead of them. His lips were pressed into a thin line in his pale face, and she knew that this was costing him a part of his soul. She couldn't bear to witness his anguish, so she turned to look out of the window, and then she realised the cause of his pain.

On the side of the road, at the foot of a lamp post that had a crazy dent in it, was a huge pile of flowers, bouquets of many colours and sizes, all different varieties. There were lilies, daisies, roses, two candles still flickering uncertainly in the breeze of the passing traffic. And, in a pale wooden frame about ten inches tall, large enough to distinguish as they crawled past in the morning traffic, a photo of Callie.

_Oh God, _it dawned on her, _this is it. This is where it happened. And Mark is going to have to drive past it every single day._

She reached out, and laid her hand on his arm. For a moment, she thought he was going to ignore her, or shrug her off, but he let his hand fall away from the steering wheel, and grasped hers tightly.

They stayed like that until they reached the hospital.


	17. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Right, this is what was going to be the last chapter before I decided Sophia should be putting in a guest appearance. It's a bit of a short one, but it's quite fundamental. Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter – any few words that you deign to leave me are greatly appreciated. Also, please please please go check out my new story, We die on the march. It's an ER/Grey's Anatomy crossover, but once it gets going it shouldn't matter in the slightest if you are only familiar with Grey's.

Disclaimer: As before.

Everything looked just as she remembered. The bustle and activity of a busy hospital was evident at every turn, so unlike the Oceanside Wellness Center, and that great wall of glass which framed whatever drama was unfolding on the mezzanine level above. And being Seattle Grace, there was usually some kind of drama.

Not this morning though. She and Mark silently climbed the stairs up to the surgical floors, neither of them in any sort of emotional state to be able to cope with an 'elevator moment'. She knew Derek had asked Richard to try to keep their return as low key as possible, but there were far more people gathered around the main desk and nurses' station than there would normally be for the handover of the night shift.

Suddenly daunted, Addison picked out Meredith's welcoming smile in the sea of faces and found herself practically running to her side. In what crazy, mixed up universe was she turning to Meredith Grey as a port in a storm, she asked herself. Although none of the rules of her life seemed the same as they were before.

'Hey,' Meredith said quietly.

'Hey.'

'You okay?'

'Think so,' Addison replied in an equally soft voice. 'Just about.'

'And Mark?'

'Better than me I think. He seems quite… determined to be okay. As if he has decided to get his head together, and that's it. Though we had to drive past the spot of the accident on the way here. I don't know how I'm going to handle that every day.'

'I guess you'll get used to it.'

Addison was grateful that Meredith didn't offer any false words of sympathy. She seemed quietly empathetic, but not trying to soft-pedal the tragedy. They fell into silence as one of the night shift attendings ran the board. Once he was done, some of the people began to fade away, disappointed that Mark and Addison's return hadn't been more dramatic. All they had done was stand unobtrusively with Derek and Meredith – there hadn't even been a hint to indicate whether those taking bets on how long it would take them to get together would have to start paying out.

Miranda stepped forward, barking out the assignments for the day. 'Right, interns – if you don't know where you're meant to be by now, then you shouldn't be here. If you are in slightest doubt at all, there's always the pit. Now go.' She clapped her hands, and a collection of fresh faced, blue scrubbed young surgeons disappeared swiftly. As Addison looked around at the faces that were left, she realised she recognised most of them.

'Now, the rest of you. I'm sure Doctors Montgomery and Sloan will want to spend most of their days catching up on your cases and what has been going on while you've been away. Addison, your resident will help you. Mark, do the best you can. Your elective surgeries were all cancelled while you were gone, your schedule is free of non-emergency cases for another week and don't let me catch you taking on anything more than you are ready for. There are a couple of burns cases that came in though – vehicle fire out on the freeway. They're on ICU but now you're back, they can be moved here as I am sure you will be operating on them before long. Go and introduce yourself, and take Doctor Stevens. She knows the case.'

Addison smiled privately to herself. Miranda hadn't changed a bit, every bit the dictator she had been when these now highly experienced residents were clueless interns. It was comfortingly familiar.

She watched as Mark stalked off without a word, his jaw tight and a grim, determined expression on his face. Knowing him as she did, it was clear he didn't want company, and was annoyed at being saddled with even a resident. Izzie Stevens, radiating offence at what was a pretty blatant snub, hurried after him.

Derek sighed. 'Right, I had better go and keep an eye on Doctor Unwin,' he said, and a couple of dry chuckles reverberated around the small company. By way of explanation, he turned to Addison and said, 'I have a very over-enthusiastic intern. Izzie made the mistake of telling her the burr holes with a power drill story and the glamour of the innate possibilities of emergency neurosurgery has gone to her head.'

Addison laughed lightly. 'I see.'

Derek laid a hand on her arm before he went. 'Are you going to be okay?'

She nodded.

'Page me if you need anything.'

'Thanks.'

The numbers of people around them had begun to thin out, and Addison turned to Meredith again. 'Miranda said to talk to my resident, but I don't know who I'm meant to be looking for. Who…?'

Her sentence faded away when she saw the expression on Meredith's face. It was a curious mixture of amusement, sympathy and a faint sense of apprehension. Her eyes had flickered sideways, and were now looking over Addison's shoulder, behind her.

She started to turn to see who was standing there, and as she did so, a faint aroma of spicy sweetness drifted towards her. A butterfly suddenly seemed to awaken in her stomach.

'I bought you a coffee.'

Non-plussed, it took Addison a moment to reach out and take the proffered polystyrene cup of vanilla latte. 'Um, thanks.'

'My pleasure.'

Alex's crooked smile was as beautiful as it had been in the Emerald City Bar after the funeral, and his very particular choice of coffee was bringing a whole other myriad of memories flooding back. When she was stuck in post-divorce Hell, Alex had been just as unlikely a port in a storm as Meredith was now.

'You're really my resident?' she eventually managed to ask, a little incredulously. 'As in OB/GYN, neo-natal, vagina squad, home of all things pink and squishy?'

He grinned guiltily. 'You have every right to say I told you so.'

She found herself drawing herself up to her full height and looking slightly down at him with an air of triumph reminiscent of her former self. 'I knew you'd miss me.'

When he replied, all trace of levity had passed from his face, and he spoke seriously, and with a deep intimacy that absolutely took Addison's breath away.

'You were right.'

At his words, and that amazing tone, Addison's knees abruptly turned to jelly, and her brain suddenly felt for all the world as if it was full of nothing more substantial than cotton wool, and she could only decipher one coherent thought.

_Oh crap. _


	18. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter, always lovely to hear from you. Sorry it's taken me longer than promised to get this chapter up, but hasn't been letting me upload any documents (it is rudely suggesting my computer is the problem, though as everything is precisely the same as when I last uploaded a document, I fail to see how it can be) then I remembered a cunning little method I used to use when it was playing up and hey presto - a chapter! As ever, I would desperately love to hear your thoughts. Some of you might find this chapter a little left field, but I hope you'll like it anyway.

Disclaimer: As before.

Mark stalked off towards the ICU in a dark temper.

When he had woken up early that morning, he had gone into Sophia's room and sat on the end of the little bed, watching his daughter sleep. Before the accident, he had still sometimes caught himself looking at her, marvelling that he could have had a hand in producing something so perfect. However, it went without saying that anything Callie was involved in would have been perfection.

Now he was even more determined to be a good father. He couldn't bear the idea of letting Callie down. She had entrusted him and Addison to raise Sophia, and he was going to do the absolute best he could in every way. He wasn't going to let her life be blighted by losing her mother at such a young age, but he didn't want her to forget Callie either. He and Addison were going to be there every step of the way.

Callie and Addison. The only two women he had ever loved, and now both of them were going to be mother to Sophia. It made her even more precious to him.

He had deliberately not given too much thought to the way things had panned out' him and Addison raising a child together. The Yankees onesie was still in a drawer somewhere. Having Sophia had erased the sense of loss that had lingered after Addison's abortion, and it had proved to him just how not ready he had been for fatherhood back then, but he still reflected on it occasionally.

Of course, it had been Callie who had pointed out to him – and hadn't exactly sugar coated it either – that he utterly lacked pretty much every essential quality needed to be a good father. Trying to prove to her that he was a better man than she thought he was had always been one of the driving forces of his dedication to Sophia.

He had reached out and stroked Sophia's dark ringlets. 'I'm not going to let you down baby. I'm not going to let any of you down.'

She stirred. 'Daddy?'

'Sh, it's all right. Go back to sleep.'

He had tucked the blanket back around her slight little body and smiled as she nestled into the covers and sucked her thumb. He wished he was back with her now, he didn't want to be at work. Somehow, the reminders of Callie were even more omnipresent here than in the apartment, plus he could feel people's eyes on him here the whole time. What did the idiots think he was going to do? Break down and cry? Go crazy? Sweep Addison off her feet and kiss her in front of everyone?

He was deeply offended by the rumours that he knew were circulating about him and Addison. When Derek had alluded to what people were saying on the phone last night, just to warn him, Mark had been genuinely shocked. Callie had _just _died. What sort of person did they think he was? Okay, so there had been the night on the sofa, and if he was really honest, there had been a few moments where leaning forward and kissing her had seemed like the most natural thing in the world, then Callie would pop into his head and he would be racked with guilt.

Maybe, one day, at some indistinguishable point in the future, he might want another chance with Addison, and maybe she might want to give him one, but he couldn't even think like that now. Sophia was his number one priority, closely followed by simply getting through the day – anything more than that was beyond him.

'Doctor Sloan, _wait._'

He rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly. Initially he had been pleased when Bailey hadn't saddled him with an intern, but on reflection, Izzie Stevens was worse. An intern you could send off for coffee, lunch, dry cleaning, labs – a million pointless errands that could keep them out of his hair all day, but he knew he wouldn't be able to dismiss Stevens in the same way.

He heard her footsteps running up behind him so he walked a little faster just to spite her.

'Wait. Doctor Bailey said I was to run through the burns case with you, bring you up to speed.'

He didn't reply, or turn to acknowledge her, but he eased his pace by a miniscule amount.

'I'll come up to the ICU with you. I assume that's where you're going.'

Despite his cold silence, it seemed to Mark as if Izzie had every intention of doing enough talking for the both of them, and already her presence was starting to grate on his nerves. He stopped walking abruptly.

'Doctor Stevens?'

'Yes?' She looked hopeful at the prospect of a response from him.

'Go get me a coffee,' he ordered. 'Bone dry cappuccino. _Bone _dry.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Are you asking, no, are you _telling_ me to get your _coffee_?' Her tone was combative, and he smirked. If he was successful in really riling her, she might leave him alone for the rest of the day.

'Yes. And I wouldn't mind a bagel as well actually, if you're going. Toasted cinnamon maybe?'

Anger and offence flamed in her eyes, so Mark threw in a sarcastic grin for goodmeasure.

'I'm not getting you coffee. Or a bagel. I'm a doctor, not your personal assistant.' She sounded angry, but not angry enough.

Mark shrugged 'Fair enough.' He paused for effect. 'In that case, could you leave me the fuck alone?'

'I'm sorry?' Now she sounded genuinely outraged.

'Seriously, get out of my face. I'm not in the mood for bright and shiny today. Just leave me alone so I can get on with looking after my patients.' The voice of his conscious, which he now found had taken on Callie's tone, told him that he was being unfair, but he couldn't give a damn. He had already decided that the only way he was going to be able to cope with being here was if he could bury himself in work, and he wasn't going to have the chance to do that if he had a resident trailing after him.

For a second, Mark thought he had been rude enough to get rid of her. She turned around as if to walk away, and he breathed a sigh of relief, but even before all the air had had a chance to leave his lungs, she swung back to face him, hands on hips, and started shouting.

'You know what, I'm sorry, but you really have no right to speak to people like that. I know what you're going through, believe me I do, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be so rude.'

He scoffed, letting his anger show now. 'You know what I'm going through?' he asked incredulously, his voice raised to match hers. 'How could _you _possibly know what I'm going through?' he spat out, really angry. Okay, so he was being a bastard, but Izzie Stevens did not have the right to call him out on it.

'I know what you're going through,' she said, quieter and more measured, 'because I've been through it.'

He had been ready with another biting retort, but it died in his throat. 'You have?'

She nodded. 'Remember when you first came here I was on probation?'

He thought for a moment. _Yeah, actually, now she mentions it. _'Uh-huh.'

'Do you remember why?'

He racked his brains. When he had first arrived, the only hospital gossip he had paid any attention to was rumours about Addison and Derek, and which nurses were easy; if anyone had told him why she was on probation, he doubted he would have listened.

'I fell in love with a patient, Denny Duquette.'

_Ah, as in the memorial clinic._

'And he died. I cut his LVAD wire, and he died. I spent twenty four hours lying on a bathroom floor, and I produced enough baked goods for the whole of Seattle, and I kept a cheque for eight million dollars taped to the fridge, but I was never _rude_.'

He'd happily go back to bright and shiny Izzie rather than self righteous Izzie. Particularly as her words made him feel suddenly ashamed. She was right, what right did he have to be such a bastard? Callie would slaughter him on the spot.

'Sorry,' he mumbled.

'What was that?' She had a school marm look on her face, which irritated him.

'Be grateful I said it once.'

She smiled, accepting the truce. 'Okay. And I _do _know what you're going through, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that anyone has to go through that.' They started walking in the direction of the ICU again, but this time, Mark set a pace that allowed her to fall into step alongside him.

'If you wanted to be alone,' _God, did she _never _stop talking? _'why didn't you just ask me to give you a minute? Why didn't you explain?'

It sounded rather simple when put like that. 'I don't know.'

'I would have, if you asked.'

He raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'Would you?'

'I'm not always this annoying you know.'

They walked in silence for a minute or two, and for the first time, Mark didn't feel as totally inhuman as he had ever since the accident. Addison, Derek and Meredith had been treating him like glass, fragile and likely to shatter. Izzie wasn't doing that. Like Callie, in a way. She had never taken any of his crap.

'Doctor Stevens?'

'Yes?'

'Would you mind giving me a moment? I just need to…' He took a deep breath. 'You know. I'll meet you on ICU in ten minutes.'

She laid a hand on his arm, then looked down at what she had done and removed it. It seemed too familiar, too intimate. 'Sure. Shall I go and get us a couple of coffees?'

He stopped in his tracks and stared. 'You're kidding?'

'No, really. Do you want a coffee?'

Mark looked at her warily, sensing a trap. 'Um, yeah, thanks.'

'No problem. See you in a minute.'

He watched her walk away, confused. _What just happened here? _He had no idea how they had gone from shouting at each other to that. It was almost… friendly. She was at the end of the corridor when he called out to her.

'Doctor Stevens?'

She turned. 'Yeah?'

'I thought you didn't _get _coffee.'

This time, she grinned, and spoke over her shoulder as she pushed open the door. 'I do when I want to.'


	19. Chapter 18

Author's Note: I'm back! Sorry about the rather prolonged absence, but I have now taken my Chartered Surveyor's exams and am back in general circulation. In addition to that, I have also been made redundant, which generally sucks quite frankly, but on the upside, at least I have some time on my hands for writing! This chapter didn't turn out anything like I expected it to, so goodness knows what the next one will be like, but hopefully you won't have to wait quite as long to find out as with this one.

Disclaimer: As before

The first few days back at work passed, if not quite in a blur, at least busy enough to give Addison an excuse not to have to think too much – about anything. She made a point of immersing herself in what she was doing, clocking out at the end of the shift and going home to Sophia. She tried to keep her mind on a sort of autopilot, only letting thoughts and emotions creep in when she was with the little girl. She daren't let herself think about anything else.

Alex Karev, and the myriad of associated complications that came with him, was not what she needed right now. To be fair to him, he had tried to make things as easy as possible for her, after that heartbreaking smile that he used to reduce her insides to jelly on her first day back. He had been quiet and quick, shadowing her in the best sense of the word, always at her elbow with the chart or test result she wanted before she even asked for it. He had been thorough when she had worked with him before, but he was more so now. It was as if he was doing everything he could to make things easier for her.

Which was just making it harder. Each cup of coffee he brought her, every difficult parent he calmed down for her, every morning she came in to find 'someone' had already gathered everyone together for rounds instead of the usual quarter of an hour wasted chasing everyone down, she found herself overcome by his thoughtfulness. Not even Derek, fifteen years ago and at his most caring, had been that considerate.

She had tried, a couple of days ago, to thank him, but he had brushed it aside.

'It's nothing,' he said. They were in an elevator together, but he didn't get up in her personal space like he used to. He was leaning back against the wall, and she couldn't help but think how sexy he looked. Damn elevators.

'No, I mean it Karev,' she had tried to insist. 'This whole… everything,' she made an expansive, vague hand gesture, 'hasn't been easy, but you're helping, so thank you.'

'No problem. If ever there's anything I can do, let me know.'

The smile he gave her was genuine, all the way to his eyes, but not heartbreaking. She wondered if he was trying not to complicate things (which was _definitely _what she wanted) or if he really was just trying to help out.

Whichever, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of asking. Or at least, that's how she was going to sell it to herself. In reality, she didn't know if she was more scared of what the answer might be, or the fact that she had even contemplated asking it.

Mark on the other hand, was _crabby. _She had noticed it when they got home from work after their first shift back – she had been expecting it, although that didn't make him easier to live with. It was such a goldfish bowl at the hospital, and people simply couldn't help but gossip, and she could see that it was really getting to him. He clearly viewed it as his duty to take out his bad temper on everyone he came across. Apart from Sophia, the only person who was immune to his black mood was Derek, although Addison could tell Mark was at least trying not to bite her head off.

At the hospital, the only residents he could abide working with were Meredith, understandably, and, curiously, Izzie Stevens. Addison would have thought Izzie would be too cheery for him, but they seemed to be rubbing along together on that burns case. Bailey had made the mistake of trying to give him an intern today, and it had been a disaster.

The poor boy had ended up shutting himself in a supply closet for a good cry after some particularly mean and demoralising jibe of Mark's, but had the misfortune to break the handle off in his hand when he'd tried to get out and had been trapped in there for three hours before anyone noticed he was missing, and four before Facilities managed to unscrew the hinges and get him out. It had been the first time Addison had seen Mark smile, apart from when he was with Sophia, since she'd arrived.

She'd been trying to keep it in, but after eating dinner one evening almost a fortnight after they had been back at work in icy silence, she had enough. She didn't expect him to be anything like his old self for a long time, possibly not ever, but he was getting worse. She had been looking at apartment listings, but there was nothing close to the hospital that was half decent, and she didn't really want to leave Sophia, but she couldn't carry on living like this.

She put her knife and fork down with a clatter, and pushed her plate away. 'Mark, please, I can't stand this.'

He pressed his lips together and for a moment looked like he was just going to get up and walk away, but he didn't. After a pause, he said, 'You're not going to ask me what's wrong, are you?'

'Don't be ridiculous.' His tone had been sneering and she couldn't help but respond in kind. 'Callie's dead. Nothing is ever going to be _right _again, not in the way it was. But… You… Sometimes I think you're going to be okay, then sometimes you're just… awful. I don't want to leave, but I'm not sure I can live with you like this.'

His face softened. 'Sorry. I just…' He looked as if he was searching for the right words. 'I don't mean to take it out on you.'

'And everyone else at the hospital?'

'Okay, I do take it out on them a bit.'

'A bit?' She raised an eyebrow. 'That poor intern was _traumatised._'

'Well, Bailey should have known better than to give him to me.' He looked petulant and boyish for a moment, more normal than he had done since the accident. 'I asked Derek to tell her that I would only work with Meredith or Stevens.'

Addison noticed the reference to Izzie, but she let it slide. This was the first time in days Mark had even come close to opening up, and she wasn't going to let that progress slip away from her.

'Look Mark, I don't want to make this any harder, but I'm not finding it easy living like this. I've lost Callie too, and I know your loss is much greater, but I'm not sure I can handle your grief on top of mine. I don't know what to do.'

He reached out across the table and took her hand, squeezing it lightly, and he opened his mouth to say something, but as she looked into his eyes, a flood of memories came tumbling back to her.

Things with Derek had been getting worse; he was working all hours and they had been rowing about every little thing. One evening, Mark had come round with tickets for the Knicks game, but Derek had been caught up at the hospital (or at least, that's what he had said the next day when Mark had asked him about it) so he had taken Addison instead.

They had had a real laugh, more than she could remember having in months with Derek, and even though she didn't have the slightest clue what was going on in the game, she enjoyed herself. He took her to some awful burger joint afterwards, the kind of place she wouldn't normally be seen dead in and bought her an enormous cheeseburger that had her in the gym every day for a week afterwards.

Then he leaned towards her over the greasy table, and took her hand in his, and at that moment, she realised she hadn't thought about Derek once, all night, and that somehow not thinking about him had been okay. It had been better than okay; it had been a relief.

_As long as Mark was there to hold her hand._

And now here they were again, the elephant back in the room with them as large and awkward as ever.

She pulled her hand away, and he gave her a sharp look.

'I wasn't about to jump you,' he said.

'I know. I'm sorry.' She was flustered. 'I didn't… Oh crap. I'm sorry,' she said again. 'You looked like you were about to say something,' she said quickly, hoping he would let the moment pass.

He did. He sat back in his chair and sighed. 'Do you want to know what's really been bothering me?'

She had thought it was the rumours at work, the incessant gossiping and picking over his life, the questions, but there was something in his tone that warned her that this was something different.

'Yes, of course.'

He got up, and went over to a drawer in the dresser that he kept paperwork in. He drew out a letter and passed it to her. 'This arrived a couple of days after the funeral.'

She quickly skimmed over it. It was from Callie's attorney, and was about her will. She didn't examine it in detail, but it looked like everything – and there was a lot of it – was left in trust for Sophia. She and Mark were trustees.

Addison had read enough. She pushed the piece of paper back across the table towards Mark, and she thought he was reaching out to take it from her, but instead, he took her hand again. This time, she did not pull away.

'I don't know what to do.'

'Have you spoken to the attorney about this?'

He shook his head. 'It makes it too real. And I know it is real, and that sticking my head in the sand isn't going to help, but I can't face it. I mean, did you see the way he wrote about her? _The deceased's Estate. _She's a person, she's Callie.'

'It's just the legal jargon, the way they have to say it.'

He looked at her appealingly. 'Would you call him? I just… I can't. I'm sorry.'

She really didn't want to. Seeing it all set out baldly on paper like that had made her throat constrict in an attack of grief that she had thought she was past. 'I don't know Mark, the letter is addressed to you.'

'But you're one of the Trustees too, I'm sure you can handle it.'

'If there are any meetings that I have to go to, you're coming too. I can't do it all on my own.'

'That's fair enough.'

She got up and picked up the dishes to take them through to the kitchen. As she drew close to him, she bent over and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. He smiled up at her, and caught her wrist.

'Thank you.'

She sighed. 'It's okay.'

'And I know you've been looking for a new apartment. Please stay. I'm sorry for being such a bastard to you, I only take it out on you because I trust you not to give up on me.'

'You don't do it to Derek. You can trust him.'

'Not like I can you. Please stay, Addie.'

'I can't stay forever.'

'A bit longer. _Please._'

For some reason, Alex's face jumped into her mind. The way his expression changed in the bar when Meredith had said that she would give her a lift back to Mark's. Something shifted in his eyes, and he had looked faintly hurt. Just as then, it made her want to say no.

'Okay. A bit longer.'


End file.
